


You Are an Angel, I Am an Astronaut

by nekoma



Series: These Days, These Days [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College AU, M/M, Roommates, University AU, art major!bokuto, bokuto is kind of demiromantic, i suppose you can call it slow burn??? idk, law student!akaashi, the AU where no one plays volleyball competitively anymore in college
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4360877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekoma/pseuds/nekoma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It was a strange night for both of us. It was also a misfortune on my part to enter a stall that couldn’t be locked.”</p>
<p>“Well,” Bokuto rushed to find something to respond in kind. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t see your penis or anything!”</p>
<p>College AU -- Bokuto often goes down to the club to have fun on a weekend, nothing new, until he pukes on someone's pants and that someone shows up at his door the next day as his very beautiful, very embarrassed new roommate.</p>
<p>(Disclaimer: Not an angel/astronaut AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i've always wanted to write a bokuaka + kuroken college au because they're my favourite family in the world so here it is! it's also my first time writing a multi-chaptered thing so i hope everything goes well.
> 
> i already have the first few chapters written so i might update pretty regularly but probably not with a schedule...i hope to upload the entire thing within a week because i don't trust myself with works in progress but eh, we'll see how it goes.
> 
> the title is taken from the song [atlantis by starfucker](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1EL03Pl4oL4).
> 
> happy reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grade A trash and unlocked toilet doors.

“So, do you know when your new roommate is moving in yet?” Kuroo slid his hands into his coat pockets and huffed out a breath in the approaching chill of autumn. 

“Yeah, I got a letter from the management. They’re moving in tomorrow,” Bokuto responded, staring at his reflection on the front camera of his phone. “Hey, does my hair look okay to you?” 

Kuroo cocked an eyebrow and stared at him. “Yeah, man. When is it never not?” And then a sly grin spread across his lips. “Ah, self-conscious now, are we? Got someone in particular to impress now, do we?” 

“Please,” Bokuto elbowed his black-haired friend. “Impressing everyone I see is only the fundamental rule of being Bokuto Koutarou.”

“Mhm,” Kuroo’s eyes widened mockingly. “Can’t say it’s been working well.”

This time Bokuto grabbed Kuroo in a headlock and gave him a good noogie while muttering, “What was that? What did you say? Did you say something?” until Kuroo was a laughing flailing mess that was garnering weird stares and scowls from other people on the street only did Bokuto let him go.

“Jeez,” Kuroo murmured while fixing his hair. Not that it made much difference since Kuroo’s hair was always a permanent growth of bedhair sticking out at all angles. “What are you, five years old?”

“ _Your_ insults are five years old!”  

“Nice comeback, dude.” 

“Shut up.”

They had arrived at their destination for the night, neon lights and blinking words that screamed ‘FERIA TOKYO’, one of the biggest nightclubs around Chiyoda possibly with a patron demographic of 90% Meiji University students. Bokuto reckoned he’d never seen so many university students gathered in one place on weekend nights before, not even on campus. 

As it was, the club was jammed pack with students who wanted to have a good last night of fun and debauchery before classes officially started for the first term. Bokuto and Kuroo were no strangers to this tradition. 

“You think the princess and his prince are here too?”

Bokuto shrugged. “Must be. Didn’t see them anywhere when we left. And since when has the princess ever given up the golden opportunity to get drunk and dance on top of bartops?” 

“True,” Kuroo nodded in agreement.  

Five minutes into the club, Bokuto had already bumped into a few kids from his art class— Washio, Sarukui and Komi who were deep in the middle of a round of ‘Never Have I Ever’ (Bokuto thought he heard Komi say “Never have I ever worn my underwear for a month straight without washing” and quickly strode away when all three of them started downing their glasses) and Kuroo stopped to say hi a couple of times to his volleyball teammates too and even groups of girls that sauntered up to him amiably. 

Bokuto stared amusedly at a flustered Kuroo who was noticeably trying to keep a cool and charming façade. Kuroo Tetsurou wasn’t a name many people didn’t recognise around campus; a sturdy six-foot-two business major with a messy fringe and a seemingly permanent smirk etched on his face —okay, he was hot, even Bokuto could acknowledge that— but not many people knew he was dating a tiny boy with bleached blonde hair whom he looked at as if he was his entire world, and Kuroo was just too polite to outright rebuff their advances.

“Oh, shit,” Kuroo was suddenly clutching Bokuto’s left arm, his eyes filled with panic. “Soccer team. I saw people from the soccer team. Go go go.”

Bokuto complied to his friend’s calls of distress, eyes darting around to search for an escape route — when they landed upon a pair of familiar faces by the bar. Bokuto made a beeline for them and Kuroo followed suit. 

“‘Sup, princ- Oikawa, Iwaizumi.” Bokuto held up a hand in greeting, smiling from ear to ear. Oikawa seemed to be halfway wasted already and was talking Iwaizumi’s ear off about something —Bokuto caught the words ‘dance’ and ‘more tequila’. That would explain the heavy grimace on Iwaizumi’s face and the strong clasp he had on Oikawa’s slender arms. 

“Geeeeeentlemen! What a not-surprise to see you here!” Oikawa slurred, his face a shiny crimson hue, eyes flitting rapidly between Bokuto and Kuroo’s faces. “Good timing too, listen, wouldn’t you agree,” his face took on a serious expression but there was laughter clearly bubbling at the back of his throat. “That this song is the best song _ever_? Tell Iwa-chan that. Go on. Isn’t this the best song to _dance to_? Go on. Tell him.”

“We only just got here, I’m not surprised princess is already ready to break into dance,” Kuroo looked pointedly at Iwaizumi, whose drink was left untouched next to him. Oikawa seemed to be throwing a tantrum at the fact that Bokuto and Kuroo had ignored him. (“What the fuck! Don’t just ignore me like that! Fucking rude!”)

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. “I take my eye off him for three minutes and he’s downed five? Six? Shots of tequila. This guy is a threat to society.”

Bokuto and Kuroo nodded fervently. Oikawa aimed for their faces but missed, stumbling forwards instead. Iwaizumi let him, releasing his hold of his arms.

“IWA-CHAN!!!”

“Pre-semester preparations, huh?” Iwaizumi finally allowed himself to sip on his drink as Bokuto and Kuroo occupied the seats next to him.

“Yeah,” Bokuto said, holding up a finger to order a chocolate martini.  

“Gross,” Kuroo commented with a wrinkle of his nose.

“I don’t talk about your poor fashion taste so don’t you fucking insult my cocktail preferences.” 

Kuroo gripped his chest in mock pain. “I’m sorry, Bokuto-sama.” 

“One more word and you’ll be the next one on the floor next to princess.” 

“Hey,” Oikawa’s head popped out of nowhere. “‘Princess’ is a derogatory slur—“ 

“It sure is an insult to princesses everywhere,” Iwaizumi interrupted. “You guys should just call him trash. It’s one syllable shorter and is a more accurate representation of this piece of garbage I have to deal with constantly.” 

Oikawa pouted at his boyfriend, eyes glistening over. Iwaizumi’s glare didn’t budge. 

“Trashykawa.”

“Well,” Oikawa crossed his arms indignantly. “If _I’m_ trash, I’m grade A trash. The kind of trash you stop to look at and think, ‘I should recycle that’ because it’s too good to throw away.”

Iwaizumi threw him a dirty look. “What kind of trash words just came out of your trash mouth, Trashykawa?”  

Bokuto grinned into his glass of martini, comfortable with the easy banter and camaraderie of the night.

 

* * *

 

Bokuto didn’t realise how many shots he’d downed until his vision started to stumble, and he realised he was the one who was physically losing his balance.  

Kuroo’s arm shot out to steady his tipsy friend as Bokuto made his way back to his seat, a look of concern on his face. “Dude, if you’re getting drunk make sure you get laid too because I’m sure as hell not bringing you back alone like this.”

“You think I’m not trying?” Bokuto snapped in frustration, except his words came out more slurred than he’d expected. Uh oh. Exactly how many shots had he taken?

Well, he’d taken a shot each time before leaving his seat to flirt with someone across the room and judging by the number of failed attempts he’d had…

“Ugh, shit,” Bokuto hid his face in his arms, but not before ordering another shot. He’d noticed a pretty redhead dancing and went up to say hi to him but came back empty-handed after asking for a name and a number. He was getting more and more exasperated. It usually didn’t take much of an effort on Bokuto’s behalf to secure a quick fuck for the night, but things were particularly haywire tonight and his jeans were starting to feel uncomfortably tight. He lifted his head and finished his drink in one gulp. 

“What are you doing?” Bokuto frowned at Kuroo who was typing away on his phone. They were at a club and Kuroo was choosing to play Flappy Bird instead? 

“I’m texting Kenma,” Kuroo deadpanned without looking up. 

An unpleasant feeling curled in his stomach. Right. His friend’s boyfriend had just moved in a few days ago and Bokuto liked Kenma and was happy for his friend —how could he not be? He was the kind of person who cried watching Lady and the Tramp— but the thought only fuelled his inadequacy for the night. Bokuto knew what was coming, but he still couldn’t control the loud grumble he let out.

Kuroo finally looked up at him. “You’re getting into one of your moods again,” his voice tethered dangerously, as if he was preparing to catch a porcelain vase from falling down.

“Mhm,” Bokuto grunted, downing another shot. “Don’mindme,” was all he said. He knew how much of an ass he could be once his mood turned dark, so he tried to hold it in within himself as much as he could without lashing out at anyone. And the only way he knew how to do this was to continue drinking. Kuroo didn’t stop him, aware that the alternative was possibly much uglier.  

Bokuto didn’t know how much time had passed when Iwaizumi was finally heaving a semi-conscious Oikawa onto his back and saying goodbye, see you back at home, but he could certainly count the number of empty glasses displayed in front of him like trophies he could brag about. Well, he probably couldn’t count, but if anyone asked him he’d say “a whole fuckin’ lot”. 

“I gotta pee,” Bokuto muttered, sliding off his seat and almost toppling over. Kuroo was yelling something at him —Bokuto wished he wouldn’t do that, it was giving him a headache— but he only waved him away, emphasising louder “I gotta PEE.” before staggering in the direction of the washroom, silently proud of himself for remembering where it even was in his current condition. 

Bokuto was contemplating just going home after this —he was sure Kuroo would pliantly agree since he was getting more and more convinced that he had come here more for Bokuto’s sake than his own anyway— but here lied the problem: Bokuto had underestimated his level of intoxication. He was wrong to think that he could make it to the toilets on his own. He was wrong to reject Kuroo’s assistance to make sure he reached his communal destination safely.

If he had taken his state of inebriation more seriously, things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did.

Bokuto was halfway to the toilets when his vision started spinning wildly. His head felt too heavy for his neck all of a sudden, and a bout of nausea shot through his oesophagus like fireworks during summer festivals. 

_Oh shit oh shit oh shit_ —

His hand clamped over his mouth as he felt his dinner make an appearance together with the 20 or more alcohol shots he had drunk in the span of an hour. He dashed through the door of the men’s washroom and slammed open the door of the first empty stall he saw before hurling his stomach’s contents into the toilet bowl.

Except the stall wasn’t empty. And he had thrown up on someone’s jeans.

Everything was blurry and Bokuto was sure this was a dream, that the past hour hadn’t actually happened because how could it? When he felt like he was floating in oblivion. Everything was so light and so bright. Too bright, in fact…

“What the fuck!” Someone was shouting, making his head throb even more. _Shhh, I’m sleeping_ , was what he wanted to say but wasn’t sure if the words actually made it out of his mouth. He looked up at the moving silhouette that was making all the noise —because Bokuto seemed to be on the floor and the person was above him…was he sitting on the toilet?— and his vision zeroed in on the most beautiful face he had ever seen in his entire life.

_Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Because you are so beautiful_. Again, he wasn’t sure if he did say it out loud. He hoped he did.

He threw up a little bit more on the guy’s pants that were scrunched around his ankles.

_Why are your pants on the floor…_ was Bokuto’s last thought before he passed out cold.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://akaa-shi.tumblr.com) / [twitter](http://twitter.com/seawxxd)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting what you wish for and honest friendship.

The light was too bright as Bokuto slowly opened his eyes, stinging his retinas in the process. His head was drumming to the beat of techno music and under normal circumstances, perhaps he would appreciate it but right now it was nothing short of annoying.

His surroundings were quiet, only punctured by random bird chirping sounds. Hm, at least that was nice. 

He chanced another attempt to open his eyes, slowly sitting up to drink in where he was.

He was in his own bed in his dorm room, and everything looked in place, nothing to suggest that there had been a tornado or an earthquake that would more suitably explain the migraine he was having right now.

As he sat up and swung his legs to the side of the bed, the previous night’s events came rushing back in one go, intensifying the hammering in his head. 

He had gone clubbing with Kuroo, made bad decisions by getting too wasted, and—

His throat felt dry as the memory of how his night had come to an end returned, piece by piece.

Bokuto stood up hurriedly, felt his head wobble from the sudden rush of blood to the head, and headed for the room adjacent to his. His movements were sluggish, like he was wading through thick murky water.

“Kuroo,” he knocked on the door that led to Room 531. His voice was raspy and broke with each syllable. “Kuroo. Are you in there.”

There was the sound of footsteps and then the door opened, but it wasn’t Kuroo. Kenma, dressed in a dark green oversized sweater tilted his head up at him, amber eyes passively judging a rather hungover Bokuto Koutarou. 

“Kenma!” Bokuto exclaimed. “Sorry if I woke you up—“ Kenma in a bad mood was a scary Kenma to be around, Bokuto knew that much despite only having known the petite guy for a few days.

“No, you didn’t. I was unpacking,” Kenma muttered. “Kuroo’s still asleep.”

“Ah, that’s fine then—“

“I can wake him up if you want.”

Bokuto considered. “Yes, please.”

Kenma left and a few minutes later, Kuroo, with his hair even more impossibly dishevelled than before, appeared by the door.

“Mornin’, asshole, I was asleep,” Kuroo yawned.

“I know, I’m sorry but do you remember what happened last night?”

Kuroo blinked at him through sleepy eyes. “You mean you don’t remember?”

Bokuto bit his lip. He _did_ remember bits and pieces, miraculously. He was hoping Kuroo would tell him that what he did remember wasn’t true at all.

“I remember drinking too much—“

“A self-aware alcohol junkie! I like it!”

“—and then I threw up? In the washroom? Then you brought me home?”

Kuroo rubbed the back of his neck like he was deep in unpleasant thought. Oh no. “Well, yeah…” Oh no. “But that wasn’t the best part of it.” Kuroo’s mouth twitched upwards, a cunning expression settling over this features. Oh shit. 

“Yeah…?” Bokuto was genuinely frightened of what he might hear next.

“You, uh, walked in on someone taking a shit and then proceeded to puke all over their pants.”

It felt like a stake through the heart. Bokuto stretched out a trembling arm to cling onto Kuroo’s shirt. “Tell me this isn’t so.”

“M-mm,” Kuroo shook his head, his irritating grin ever so wide. “It is so. Saw it with my own poor eyes. Had to scrub my eyeballs 10 times after that to get the image out of my head. Guy looked so frightened walking home in his boxers with his dirtied jeans in a bag thanks to you.”

Bokuto Koutarou had his fair share of terrible decisions and drunken disastrous aftermaths that often ended up with him sprawled in bushes or even that one time, in an abandoned hospital building, but he had to admit this one certainly took the crown. The night’s events were fuzzy, but the beautiful stranger’s face was strangely clear, and drunk or not, Bokuto still agreed that he was the prettiest person he had ever chanced upon.

And he had to throw up on him while he was half-naked taking a dump in the toilet of a club.

Bokuto covered his face with both hands, emitting a high-pitch whine.

“There, there,” Kuroo patted his shoulder sympathetically. “What’s youth without some hardcore regrets, eh? Plus, it’s not like you’ll be seeing your puke-victim ever again.”

Bokuto didn’t really have the heart to tell him that he kinda wanted to see his beautiful puke-victim again. Preferably with amnesia, though. 

 

* * *

 

Starting first day of classes with a hangover was something Bokuto would not recommend to anyone. Thankfully there weren’t any practical lessons on the first day and Bokuto managed to skim through half of his lectures asleep, the other half cowering away in a corner of the lecture hall nursing his headache. He didn’t seem to be the only one who had a rather wild night last night, but he was definitely the worst sufferer of them all. 

Bokuto heaved a sigh when classes were finally done for the day and he dragged his still lethargic body back to the dorm, bag heavy with notes and assignments of the first day. He knew he had to get to them at some point since he had shamelessly slept through all his classes today but he didn’t think he could possibly lift a pencil even if he was held at gunpoint. He flopped onto his bed and draped an arm over this eyes, shielding them from the late afternoon light seeping through the blinds.  

His mind drifted off and he was dreaming about flying in the body of an owl when a firm knock on the door brought him back to consciousness rather harshly. Sleep drool left a travelling trail across his right cheek and he wiped it away quickly before heading towards the door, grumbling and wondering who it could be. 

If it was Kuroo and this was payback, that idiot was getting a punch to the face.

Bokuto wrenched the door open, preparing to scream ‘ASSHOLE!’ in his friend’s face but stopped abruptly when he saw who it was. What came out of his mouth instead sounded like a garbled squawk. 

His golden eyes met a pair of dark black ones, which widened in shock and recognition upon the sight of Bokuto. The owner of those eyes was a lean guy with black, curly hair and a large navy blue luggage in tow.

Two thoughts materialized at once.

One. Bokuto’s new roommate was moving in that afternoon.

Two. Standing in front of him was his beautiful puke-victim. The person whose excretory privacy he had invaded in a drunken fit the night before.

His puke-victim stared back at him, a look on his face as if Bokuto had just told him spoilers of his favourite TV show. He looked down at the piece of paper in his free hand, at the number on the room’s door and then finally back at Bokuto. 

“Um,” the stranger’s cheeks coloured considerably. Bokuto could feel his own face warming up. “Are you Bokuto Koutarou…?" 

“A- Ye- “ Bokuto coughed. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” 

“I’m your new roommate.”

“Hi!” Bokuto’s grin stretched too wide. He was starting to sweat unconsciously, a million thoughts running through his head. First of which.. _what_? _How_?

A beat of silence. And then, “Can I come in?”

“Oh! Yeah! Yes. Sorry,” Bokuto fumbled, his limbs suddenly feeling too huge and extra for his body. He opened the door wider, allowing his new roommate to enter. All the while, Bokuto couldn’t stop staring at him, partially because he already had a face that was hard to look away from and partially because he was still convinced this was some kind of a dream. He must still be asleep. Or a joke. He wouldn’t put it past Kuroo to do something sinister like this. 

Bokuto whipped his phone out.

**To: Kuroo  
** **From: Bokuto  
** **Subject: (none)  
** **BRO WHAT THE FUCK DID U DO**

“Um…”

Bokuto’s head snapped up, pocketing his phone hurriedly. The other guy looked at the beds, then shot a questioning look at Bokuto.

The arrangement of the room was as such: two beds, one directly under the window and the other next to the shared wardrobe, against the adjacent wall. Two joint desks faced the opposite wall. 

“My bed’s this side!” Bokuto pointed at the one next to the wardrobe. “Unless you want to switch? I don’t mind—“

“No, it’s fine, Bokuto-san,” the pretty stranger said flatly and set his luggage next to the bed under the window, making to start unpacking his things. His movements were graceful and quick —or perhaps it was Bokuto’s brain romanticizing his already growing infatuation, unhelpfully— and Bokuto couldn’t help but stare. 

A sigh and an annoyed look from the opposite bed. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, n- no,” Bokuto stuttered uncharacteristically, his mind still slow on the uptake. He felt like he should address the events of the previous night and at least apologise but he wasn’t entirely sure how to bring that topic up in the midst of such a strange situation. “Um…last night…”

The stranger’s shoulders noticeably stiffened. 

Bokuto swallowed nervously and continued, “Uh, I just wanted to say sorry—“

“Can we not talk about it? Pretend like it never happened?” His cheeks had turned a dark shade of red and his voice had a hard edge to it; Bokuto felt it like a sensitive prick to the finger.  

“I— of course,” Bokuto said and offered a weak smile, one which was not returned. His phone vibrated in his pocket and Bokuto dug it out.

**To: Bokuto  
** **From: Kuroo  
** **Subject: Re: (none)  
** **whatever it is you think i did. i didn’t. unless it’s the missing milk carton in the fridge. then yes. i did that.**

Bokuto exhaled through his lips. He was fucked.

 

* * *

 

“No fucking way,” Kuroo sounded too happy —awed, even— for the current predicament Bokuto was facing. He was sitting on Kenma’s bed with Kenma playing his PSP on his lap while Bokuto occupied Kuroo’s bed. Bokuto had Kuroo’s pillow over his face, hiding the hot flush turning his face an ugly red hue and also because it was something handy to scream into.

“Hey, dude, what the fuck, don’t get your saliva all over my pillow. That’s gross,” Kuroo reached over and snatched his pillow away from further contamination without jostling Kenma too much.

“Are you sure you’re not fucking with me?” Bokuto’s glare shot daggers at Kuroo.

“What, you think I have the power to somehow get hold of a stranger you threw up on in a club and then get him to come here and pretend to be your new roommate?” Kuroo furrowed his eyebrows, then grinned lazily. “I didn’t know you think so highly of me. You flatter me, really.”

“Stop repeating variations of the word ‘puke’,” Bokuto replaced the pillow with his palms. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

“What _is_ there for you to do?” Kuroo shrugged non-committally . “It’s not like you can kick him out. If you’re lucky, he might even request for a transfer.”

“No, but,” Bokuto groaned into his arm. “That’s the thing! I don’t want him to transfer!”

Kuroo stared at him. “You want to live with someone who had his pants down when you poured the fillings of your stomach onto said pants?”

“No! Yes! I don’t know!”

Kuroo threw his hands up wordlessly. 

“It’s more than that, Kuroo! He’s—“ He waved his arms about. “Let’s just say if we had met under different circumstances, I would want to give him my number!”

Kuroo's face blanked for a while and Bokuto could see that his friend was trying to piece the bigger picture together. And then it clicked, and Kuroo burst into howls of laughter.

“The way he laughs is really annoying,” Bokuto scowled as Kuroo’s laughing fit went on beyond mere seconds. 

Kenma breathed out loudly, eyes still trained on the screen in front of him. “I know.”

“Hey,” Kuroo aimed a pillow at Bokuto’s face. “Kenma’s allowed to say that but not you.”

Bokuto whined. “I thought you were my friend.”

“I am your friend,” Kuroo’s teeth almost glimmered under the fluorescent lights, bared so broadly. He wiped away tears that trickled from his eyes. “And as your friend, I gotta tell you the cold hard truth: man, you’re fucked.”

 

* * *

 

That night, Bokuto went to bed earlier than usual but could only stare at the ceiling, then the wall, then the desks as his mind raced, a thousand feelings melting in his gut, 90 percent of which were feelings of sadness and guilt. 

When his new roommate returned from wherever he’d gone to, it was almost past 2AM. Bokuto closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. He couldn’t help but wonder if his new roommate had left for the night to escape from him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://akaa-shi.tumblr.com) / [twitter](http://twitter.com/seawxxd)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matcha frappuccino and owl drawings.

Bokuto had an 8AM class the next morning. By the time he got up and started preparing for class, his roommate —he really needed a name soon, it felt uncomfortably inappropriate to just keep referring to him as ‘his roommate’ especially when Bokuto wanted to know so many more things beyond his name— was still fast asleep, his blanket covering his whole body with only his head left peeking out. 

Bokuto’s former roommate —Kiyoshi-san, an accounting student who was in his final year— usually woke up before he did and left incredibly early before lecturers even turned up, explaining that it had already become a routine for him to get coffee from the campus’ Starbucks and spend his pre-classes hours there studying or finishing up his assignments. He was a nice guy, but Bokuto hardly ever saw him around, leaving super early in the morning and coming back super late at night. 

As a result, Bokuto usually had the room to himself, choosing to put on his favourite tracks in the morning as he got ready for classes.

But now that he was no longer alone, Bokuto didn’t even dare to turn on the lights.

He tiptoed across the room in what little light was provided through the closed blinds and attempted to carry out his daily routine as best he could, accidentally stubbing his toes three times in the process. In the end, he left his hair-fixing ritual for last which he decided to do in the joint bathroom of their floor.

“Tsukki!” Bokuto exclaimed at the sight of the tall blonde guy standing at the sinks in the bathroom. “Good morning!”

Tsukishima turned around, his expression unchanging. “Oh. It’s you. I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Aw, c’mon, we haven’t seen each other for three months! How was your break?”

“Fine,” Tsukishima covered his mouth as he yawned. “Quiet. Peaceful.”

“You sound as if you enjoyed that,” Bokuto frowned as he unleashed a cloud of hairspray onto his grey-streaked hair. 

Tsukishima flinched, grimacing. “You never do your…stuff here. What’s different this morning?” 

“Hm? New roommate.”

“Ah,” the blonde guy smirked. “Got kicked out, did you?”

“Nah, just a late bird.”

Bokuto returned to his room after he was finished, but not before calling out “See you later, Tsukki!” rather loudly to his housemate who was in the shower.

His still-a-stranger roommate was still asleep when Bokuto was ready to head out. He wondered if he should wake him up but decided otherwise, unsure of the other guy’s timetable. Maybe he only had classes in the afternoon. Still, Bokuto felt weird to just leave without saying anything even though his person of interest wasn’t conscious to pay direct attention to him. Bokuto was a very verbally vocal person, which was no longer a surprise to anyone, and he _really_ should say something even if his puke-victim might still be angry at him.  

In the end, he wrote a small “See you this evening, have a nice day!” note and drew a little owl in place of the dot of the exclamation mark and left it on his roommate’s desk.

 

* * *

 

His room was empty when Bokuto came back from university, a half-painted canvas under an arm. The theme given for their assignment for the week was ‘nature’, as fundamental and basic as a first-week-of-class assignment could be. Bokuto had drawn an owl habitat.

He threw his bag onto his bed and set his stuff on his table, mind somewhere else wondering what he could get for dinner tonight when his eyes caught sight of a piece of post-it note on the table next to his. It was the note he had left for his roommate this morning, still in the same position, completely unmoved. Bokuto was unsure why but he felt his heart sank, disappointment creeping into his shoulders, sending them into a slump.

He was thinking maybe his roommate had left too hurriedly to notice it when a sweet angelic tinkling of a voice came from behind.

“Hi, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto whipped around to see his new roommate standing by the opened door, looking slightly bashful. Bokuto knew he got it real bad when the first thought that leapt to his mind right then was how intricately attractive his features were, his heavy-lidded eyes and long lashes together with the accompaniment of his messily curly hair sending Bokuto’s heart into a flutter, despite the stoic and passive expression on his face. His beauty rivalled that of Princess Oikawa Tooru, and that was saying something.

“Hi! Uh…”

“Akaashi.” Bokuto’s face lit up as the other boy shyly lowered his gaze. “My name is Akaashi Keiji.”

“Akaashi…” Bokuto tried it out, moving the name along his tongue. “That’s a really pretty name!” His words had a mind of their own, jumping out of his mouth of their own volition.

Akaashi’s cheeks reddened and he pretended not to hear Bokuto’s comment. “I wanted to apologise for how rude I acted yesterday. I was shocked and in a bad mood, but that still didn’t give me the right to snap at you like that. So I got you coffee as a token of apology.” He held out a cup of Starbucks coffee. “It’s matcha frappuccino. I wasn’t sure if you drank coffee so I went with a more common drink, I hope you don’t mind.”

Bokuto felt so many things at once; surprise —of the pleasant variation— relief, joy and possibly excitement. Perhaps he was pushing a bit too far but then again, this was Bokuto Koutarou they were talking about. 

The smile on Bokuto’s face widened into a brilliant grin, eyes sparkling. “For me? Really?” He stared at Akaashi expectantly, who nodded quickly, face still red. “Uwah, thank you!” Bokuto almost went in for a hug he so frequently delivered to all his friends —Kuroo always pushed him away but he knew he secretly liked being hugged— but halted just in time, reminding himself that he’d only just met Akaashi and not everyone was as comfortable with casual touching as he was. He took the cup from Akaashi’s outstretched hand as if he was receiving a trophy onstage, sipping the frapp happily. 

He paused when a thought suddenly struck him. “Ah, I also want to say sorry about…that night,” Bokuto said sheepishly. 

Akaashi looked like he’d just swallowed something unpleasant. “It’s alright,” he croaked, eyes darting downwards as he started making his way to his bed. “It was a strange night for both of us. It was also a misfortune on my part to enter a stall that couldn’t be locked.”

“Well,” Bokuto rushed to find something to respond in kind. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t see your penis or anything!”

The sound of Akaashi’s bag dropping on the floor. 

“Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you,” Bokuto sputtered in a hurry. “It’s just— Y’know, if you were worrying, than you don’t have to—“

“Thanks,” Akaashi sat down on his bed, head turned away as he began pulling books out of his fallen bag, his cheeks a burning crimson that could almost emit smoke wisps.

Bokuto was at his wits’ end. Where was the smooth-talker that had gotten him a fair amount of one night stands last year? The person who had gotten him and Kuroo out of countless potential law suits with the mere power of his words? 

In place, there was now this stammering moron that had accidentally let slip about not having seen the dick of a guy he was trying to get to know better.

Akaashi stood up and started arranging his books on his side of the table and Bokuto couldn’t help but watch him from his peripheral vision.

“Law?” He murmured around the straw he had continued to sip his frappuccino through, looking pointedly at the massively thick books Akaashi was handling. Even if he wasn’t curious and didn’t want to know more about the curly-haired beauty, Bokuto figured it was only common courtesy to attempt to be friendly with your roommate. 

“Yeah,” Akaashi said. “First day of classes and already I’m bringing back a ten tonne truckload of books.”

“That’s really impressive, though.”

“What is? You mean studying law?" 

Bokuto nodded.

Akaashi shrugged. “I suppose. That’s what everyone tells me anyway.”

“Everyone?”

“Parents, relatives, high school teachers. To some extent, friends.”

“I see,” Bokuto remarked, noticing Akaashi’s deepening crease between his eyes as the conversation progressed. “You don’t agree?”

Another shrug. “Not like I have much say in it,” he turned to face Bokuto, a very tiny inkling of a smile creeping at the corners of his lips. “What about you, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto held up his canvas, grinning. “Visual arts. Second year.”

“Very nice,” Akaashi nodded. “Not the manga kind?”

“Nah. I don’t think I tell stories well. The only form of artistic expression I’m good at is blending colours and painting them,” Bokuto mused. That much was true. He’d heard many people suggest a future job as a mangaka since it was a unique Japanese occupation and there could never be an oversupply of it, and Bokuto did try, but just like he said, he wasn’t very good at coming up with plotlines and connecting the dots to form a story, and drawing manga was more than just, well, drawing. 

Bokuto found enjoyment at the tip of his paintbrush, in pulling out his colour palette and painting portraits and landscapes and sometimes abstract art, if he was feeling ambitious, but they almost always turn out to become portraits or landscapes anyway. He didn’t quite understand the apparent ‘underlying interpretation’ needed to paint abstractly; he visualized things as they were and brought them to paper in his own style. And he was pretty good at that too.

Akaashi settled into his chair, looking thoughtful. “That’s one way of telling stories too, I think.”

Bokuto caught himself staring, entranced by the way Akaashi talked and how captivating he looked in the backdrop of the colours of the setting sun. He quickly looked away in guilt when Akaashi caught his eye, not wanting to continue ruining Akaashi’s first impression of him further by coming across as being too creepy.

“Say,” Bokuto cleared his throat. “How come you moved in late?”

“I got back from the United States later than expected.” When Bokuto shot him a puzzled look, he continued, “I studied abroad for three years, only just flew back to Japan on Sunday. I had only a few hours to pack the minimum stuff I have and bring them here in time to make it to my first class.”

“Wow. America.”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever met Kanye West?”

Akaashi blinked. “Of course. Everyone in America has met him in person,” he deadpanned.

It took Bokuto a while to realise that Akaashi was joking —although he sort of wished he hadn’t been; he worshipped Kanye’s music, even if he had no idea what he was rapping about— and a burst of laughter escaped from his mouth, a deep, throaty laugh that vibrated throughout his whole being.

“Well,” Bokuto’s laughs reduced to giggles. “If you do meet him again, tell him I said ‘praise Yeezus’.”

Akaashi smiled. “I don’t think I’ll be returning there soon, but sure, I’ll remember to pass the message along.”

“Thanks,” Bokuto offered a grin. “If you reached here on Sunday…which part of Japan are you from?” 

“I’m from this area. I live near the Jinbocho station.” 

“That’s like next door!” 

“Yeah, it is.”

“In that case, you don’t have to stay at university residences, right?”

Akaashi sighed. “Yeah. But I can’t stay at home.”

Bokuto felt like there was more backstory to that sentence but if Akaashi wasn’t going to elaborate further, he didn’t want to pry too much, either. 

“Well, you’ll grow to love this place!” Bokuto chirped merrily, his arms gesturing around to indicate the whole floor. “Everyone here’s really nice. We’ve got Kuroo and Kenma next door, super laidback domestic cat people, His Royal Highness Oikawa and his prince Iwaizumi next to the shared kitchen and Tsukki and his freckled companion Yamaguchi across the hall. The only rule of the floor is no loud noises after 11PM or Oikawa will probably leave his room to stab you but other than that it’s pretty much a free country.”

Akaashi’s smile widened. “Sounds like a pleasure. I can’t wait to meet them.” His eyes landed on the clock hung above the desks and he stood up abruptly. Bokuto jumped.

“I forgot, I’ve got some remaining documents to submit to the residences offices. They close in 15 minutes,” Akaashi ruffled through his bag and fished out a small stack of papers. “Sorry for leaving so suddenly.” 

“It’s okay!” Bokuto assured, although he did feel a bit disheartened that their conversation had ground to a halt. He didn’t realise how much time had passed; he had enjoyed Akaashi’s company that much.

Akaashi’s movements paused and Bokuto saw that he was looking at the handwritten post-it note stuck on the table top. “Thank you for the note, Bokuto-san. I saw it this morning. I really appreciate it.”

“Do you like the owl drawing?” Bokuto stared at him expectantly.

“…Yes, I do,” Akaashi was looking at the paper, then at Bokuto, then at the paper again before giving a slight shake of the head. “Well, see you.”

“See you, Akaashi!”

The door closed, but not before Bokuto heard a soft, “The owl kinda looks like you…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://akaa-shi.tumblr.com) / [twitter](http://twitter.com/seawxxd)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Japanese punk rock music and some good ol' Masterchef.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a headcanon that bokuto really likes to listen to english rap music.

It didn’t take long for Bokuto to form a routine with Akaashi —as opposed to not having one with Kiyoshi-san since the latter was never around— and for them to find out about each other’s opposite nature.

In short, Bokuto was a morning person while Akaashi was a night person.

Contrary to popular belief, Bokuto always went to bed early and woke up early the next morning; his roommate, on the other hand, was rather the night owl and Akaashi would usually still be asleep when Bokuto woke up in the morning.

There was rather an impasse on Bokuto’s part at first.

Bokuto was still afraid to turn on the lights or make any noise at all in the mornings, hissing at his stubbed toes or when he closed the wardrobe door too loudly. He felt like a robber intruding into his own room.

“Bokuto-san.” Bokuto yelped one morning as he was tiptoeing across the room to get to the door, clothes in hand. He turned around to see Akaashi awake and sitting up in bed.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto panicked. “I’m sorry I woke you up!”

“It’s okay, Bokuto-san,” the other guy rubbed his eyes groggily. “Please don’t go to such lengths just to accommodate me.”

“But I don’t want to wake you up—“

Akaashi waved his hands lazily. “Really, don’t mind me. I usually sleep through earthquakes anyway. And I’ve noticed you’ve been having a hard time trying to move around quietly in the dark, so just do what you usually do and pretend I’m not here.”

“You’ve noticed?”

“Yes. It’s a wonder your toes are still connected to your feet.” 

Bokuto wiggled his toes and beamed. “What do you think of rap music in the morning?”

Akaashi stared. “Don’t tell me. Kanye West?”

Bokuto cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t like Kanye West?”

“I don’t really listen to him. Or rap music in general,” Akaashi shrugged.

Bokuto’s jaw dropped in horror, eyes dilating to the size of saucers. “But you were in the same country as him! How could you not like the music of God?”

Akaashi wrinkled his nose. “He is a respectable artist of high creativity and calibre, but I wouldn’t call him God…”

Bokuto looked highly offended and sat down backwards on his chair, facing Akaashi’s bed. “Okay, Mozart. What kind of music do you listen to, then?”

“Funny you should mention him. His Piano Concerto No. 23 in A is one of my absolute favourites.”

Bokuto shook his head in mock disgust. “I’m requesting a transfer.”

Akaashi laughed for the first time and it was the most incredible piece of melody he had ever heard, warming his heart and turning the corners of his own mouth up into an indulgent smile.

“I actually like listening to Japanese punk rock bands.” Akaashi had the decency to look embarrassed. 

“Like ROSSO?”

“Exactly like ROSSO.”

Bokuto hid his eyes behind his palm. “I’m not sure how to process this horrific information.”

“Well, be thankful that I don’t listen to music religiously in the morning,” Akaashi said, amused.

Bokuto stood up and headed for the door. “I’m making it a personal mission to get you inducted into the Kanye West fan club one day, Akaashi-kun.”

“We’ll see."

But as Bokuto made his way to the bathroom, he made a mental note to check out some of ROSSO’s tracks someday.

 

* * *

 

Since Akaashi allowed Bokuto to do whatever he liked in the mornings, Bokuto insisted Akaashi leave the lights on for himself at night even after Bokuto had gone to sleep. He didn’t admit it, but he was aware that Akaashi was usually up all night until 3AM hunched over piles of books at his desk, pausing only for toilet breaks. In fact, studying was all Akaashi ever did from the moment he came back from university until he fell asleep, always serious and full concentration that Bokuto even felt pressured just sitting next to him while finishing off his assignments.

He understood students of the law faculty slaved away more than anyone else, especially concerning the workload, but Bokuto was starting to worry that his roommate was spending the first month of his university life solely cooped up in his room memorising case studies and statutes.

Which was why when stress-relief expert Bokuto Koutarou saw Akaashi at his desk on a Friday night, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

“Akaashi!” The younger boy jumped in surprise, head slowly turning towards Bokuto exhaustedly. 

“Bokuto-san.”

“I told you, just call me Koutarou,” Bokuto stepped into the doorway. “Come watch TV with me!”

“I can’t,” Akaashi gestured at the textbook opened in front of him. “I’m studying.”

“But you’re always studying! And it’s a weekend tomorrow!”

Akaashi was unfazed. “Studying is usually what a university student does.”

“Noooo,” Bokuto drawled. “That’s not all there is to university, I promise. Heck, even final year students don’t cram as much as you do.”

Akaashi stared at him.

“C’moooooon Akaaaaaaashiiiiiii, Masterchef is on! It’s just TV, and it’s only for tonight,” Bokuto added while scheming for other things he could get Akaashi to join in for the consecutive weekends.

He could hear Akaashi weighing his choices during the brief silence and then he sighed, using a pen as a bookmark before closing his textbook shut. “Fine. But only one episode.”

“YAY!” Bokuto cheered and skipped to the common room, sinking into the couch before the TV. He patted the seat next to his when Akaashi walked in warily. 

“So this is the common room,” Akaashi sat down next to Bokuto, eyes roaming the area. Bokuto nearly dropped the remote controller in his hand.

“You’ve never even been in here?!"

“No,” he was still drinking the place in. “I’m one of those stereotypical shut-in nerds whose sole purpose of attending university is to study, get a degree and then get out.”

Bokuto was taken aback by Akaashi’s sudden blunt choice of words, feeling a sense of déja vù that there was more to his commentary than what he’d provided. Considering the fact that Akaashi was well aware that he was portraying a stereotype, that must mean that that wasn’t who he truly was, right?

“Yahooooooo,” but of course, who else was likelier to interrupt the evening than resident meddler Oikawa Tooru. The brunette with impossibly impeccable tufts of cowlicks emerged from the pantry with a steaming mug in hand and a lazy smile on his face. It was certainly strange to see Oikawa without Iwaizumi glued to his hip to keep him out of trouble— or perhaps to keep him from becoming the trouble, both cases seemed just as likely. He took a sip from his cup and paused at the sight of the person next to Bokuto.

“Hmm?” Oikawa’s eyes widened as he murmured from his mug. “Ah, who is this?”

“He’s my new roommate!”

“I’m Akaashi,” Akaashi introduced himself, voice cautious as he witnessed the growing grin on Oikawa’s face. 

“New roommate? I didn’t know about this,” Oikawa sauntered forward. “Did Bokuto tell you about me? My name is Oikawa Tooru, my room’s over here,” he answered his own question and pointed at a door behind him with his thumb, eyes focused too intently on Akaashi’s face. Bokuto didn’t miss this and could sense Akaashi tensing up beside him. He narrowed his eyes and flicked at Oikawa’s wrist.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Your eyes look funny. Are you feeling ill? Stop that.”

Oikawa feigned disgust, bringing a hand to his chest. “I was born with these eyes! And beautiful ones at that. You stop it.”

Bokuto rolled his eyes in distaste and turned to Akaashi. “If this trash princess—“

“Hey!”

“—gives you a hard time, tell me okay, I’ll punch him for you.”

Akaashi looked like he was sweating after running a marathon. “Um…okay?” His eyes flitted quickly between the older two, who were having what seemed to be the beginning of a stare-off.

“Nonsense,” Oikawa closed his eyes dramatically and made a waving gesture. “Why would I hurt my own roommates? You wound me, Bokuto.” Another rolling of the eyes. “Seriously though, have I been living with a stranger all this while?”

“You’re not one to talk!” Bokuto piped up. “I didn’t even know Iwaizumi had a roommate for months when I first moved in, an incredible feat considering how far the sound of your voice travels.”

“Takes one loudmouth to know another, Bokuto-kun!” Oikawa smiled cheerfully, shoulders raised in a shrug. “Although I guess the people that will suffer the most from your loudness soon are Kuroo and Kenma.” There was a sinister glint to his eyes and a menacing tone in his voice as he said that with a shit-eating grin and Bokuto didn’t like that at all. It gave off the same kind of trepidation as that one time Oikawa had implied that he and Iwaizumi would be occupying the toilets and would like to not be disturbed, only to have everyone discover that the entire floor had been flooded with water half an hour later.

“What?” Bokuto noticed that Akaashi had turned very red and still next to him and he flicked at Oikawa’s elbow, harder this time. The brunette yelped and cradled his arm. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean? I told you to stop it.”

“You’ll see,” Oikawa said too happily in a singsong voice and leaned in to whisper so only Bokuto could hear him. “He’s really pretty, and that’s something coming from me. Go for it.”

Bokuto was flustered. “Wh- Mind your own- I don’t need you to tell me that!” 

Oikawa threw up a peace sign and Bokuto couldn’t stop throwing him dirty looks until he left the room.

“That,” Bokuto sighed and rubbed the back of his neck in exhaustion. “Is who I’ve always assumed would be the first person waiting for me in hell.”

Akaashi blinked, the blush in his cheeks fading. He also looked more relaxed, to Bokuto’s relief. Bokuto didn’t blame him, Oikawa was a force to be reckoned with. Beneath that unfairly gifted complexion, constantly perfect hair and broad smiles laid a devious agent provocateur that seemed to always have something up his sleeve. Oikawa always knew what he was doing to get what he wanted, and he almost always succeeded.

Oikawa Tooru wasn’t a horrible person per se, but he was definitely a terrifying one. 

“Oikawa-san is…interesting,” Akaashi chanced.

Bokuto laughed. “You don’t have to be polite. I’ve lived with him for a year and he scares me sometimes. It feels like he can see through me and pick up on my weaknesses, and I don’t doubt that he can.” Bokuto shuddered. “And they call me and Kuroo the troublemakers of this household…”

Akaashi looked like he was about to say something but closed his mouth. Bokuto looked at him quizzically. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Akaashi said, the ripple in his expression smoothening out to become stoic again. “I guess he just reminds me of someone I knew.”

Again, Bokuto held himself back from prying, the past tense usage of the word ‘know’ not lost on him. This surprised himself more than anything, honestly, because since when had Bokuto ever paid heed to personal boundaries? But with Akaashi he felt the need to be more careful. He wasn’t too sure why, except that he cared about the crease between Akaashi’s eyebrows and the way his tone could change into one of hidden melancholy with a turn of his gaze or a quirk of the mouth. 

Bokuto felt the need to salvage it before the sadness crossed Akaashi’s face again.

“He reminds all of us of someone we know,” Bokuto nodded. “Satan.”

And there it was again, the sound of Akaashi laughing. It wasn’t much, probably just a tiny chuckle by Bokuto’s standards, but seeing Akaashi opening up as opposed to the hard deadpan his face usually took on on a daily basis filled Bokuto with some sort of inexplicable joy, and he was so beautiful that Bokuto had to make sure he wasn’t actually staring into the eyes of an actual biblical angel. 

At that very moment, Bokuto made it his personal goal to make Akaashi smile and laugh as much as possible. He also decided that the sound of Akaashi’s laughter was his favourite sound. Possibly rivalling his love for Kanye’s music, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Akaashi.

They watched Masterchef with the subtitles on and Bokuto pointed out that Oikawa could pass off as the meanest judge and probably terrorize more people and also is that a white person trying to do _naked sushi_ as an _audition dish_? 

“That’s not even seaweed they’re using for the sushi,” Akaashi wrinkled his nose.

“My god…” Bokuto leaned in towards the TV to look closer. “You’re right. What is this. Someone report this as offensive content.”

“Although wrapping them in thin pancake doesn’t sound all that bad…”

Bokuto cast a horrified look at Akaashi. “Akaashi. What is this. Get out of here. I’m sending you to my grandma’s at Mihonoseki where you can re-earn the right to call yourself Japanese.”

Akaashi gave off a small laugh. Bokuto’s heart thumped quicker than usual. “Hey, don’t knock on pancakes before you try them. I’ve had some pretty amazing pancakes in the US.”

“But, Akaashi! Pancakes with rice! In a sushi!”

Akaashi contemplated. “You’ve got a point. I still wonder how it would taste like, though.”

“Ooh, look at that!” Bokuto pointed at Gordon Ramsay making a disgusted face at the sushi. “I agree with him.”

“He hasn’t said anything.”

“I agree with what his face is saying.” Gordon Ramsay’s face was still scrunched up as he returned to his seat, but the other two chefs were starting to nod their approvals, much to Gordon and Bokuto’s horror. 

“A-ha,” Akaashi’s mouth slid into a slight smirk. “Two to one. I win.”

“This show is ridiculous.”

They continued watching another five more episodes, easy conversation between them and comfortable silence without. Bokuto was glad to see that Akaashi had relaxed considerably since putting his books down, the lack of tension in his shoulders and puckers between his eyebrows more of a rare sight than a common one. The atmosphere was light and easy, only the two of them in front of the TV and when they finally went back to their room, Bokuto couldn’t have mistaken the lingering smile on Akaashi’s face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://akaa-shi.tumblr.com) / [twitter](http://twitter.com/seawxxd)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sushi and "he even called you Keiji".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also known as the dialogue chapter. i just want these four to spend a lot of time together *thumbs up emoji*

“Akaashi!”

Akaashi was seated at his desk again, books splayed open in front of him. He looked up tiredly at the enthusiastic mention of his name.

It was only 11 in the morning and Bokuto thought Akaashi already looked like he was ready to sleep for a million years.

Bokuto stepped through the doorway and into the room, bouncing onto his bed. “We’re going for lunch with Kuroo and Kenma!”

Akaashi barely gave it much consideration before his reply came automatically. “It’s okay, Bokuto-san. I have to—“

“Study?” Bokuto finished his sentence for him. He frowned. “But it’s just lunch! And you have to eat. You can stay alive without studying but you can’t stay alive without eating.”

“That remains to be seen,” Akaashi said under his breath and then louder, “I’ve already eaten, so I’ll be fine.”

Bokuto raised his eyebrows. “Really? What did you eat?”

Akaashi pointed at the biscuit wrappers littered on his desk.

“Okay, that’s it. You’re coming for lunch.” Bokuto stood up and headed for the door. “I’m telling Kuroo and Kenma you’re coming along too and get them to make a reservation for four people so you can’t back out.”

Akaashi heaved a defeated sigh, knowing there was no way he was going to win this. “I’ll go get ready, then.” He closed his books and stood up, walking towards the wardrobe.

Bokuto felt a victorious grin spread on his face as he bounded towards the room next door to deliver the good news, managing to maintain his streak of getting Akaashi to leave the room and live like a normal human being.

 

* * *

 

After debating for quite some time about where to eat, they decided to have sushi for lunch, Bokuto insisting loudly that Akaashi must be re-exposed to authentic Japanese sushi cuisines, much to Kuroo and Kenma’s confusion and Akaashi’s embarrassment.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said suddenly as they started walking. “Didn’t you say you’d asked Kuroo-san to make a reservation beforehand?”

“Ah! Right! Well,” Bokuto smiled nervously. “It might have slipped my mind?” He could see Kuroo snickering in his peripheral vision. Akaashi could only sigh.

They arrived at Sushi Nanba (“Kenma’s favourite sushi place,” Kuroo commented.) and were directed to a table by the conveyor belt. 

“So,” Kuroo began once they were all settled down, his usual smirk quirking up one side of his mouth. “We meet again, Akaashi-kun!" 

Akaashi’s face turned scarlet instantaneously and Bokuto kicked Kuroo’s shin from under the table. Kuroo bit his lip, resisting the urge to yelp in pain and shot a glare at Bokuto across the table.

“Yeah,” Akaashi said, voice thick. He cleared his throat. “Thank you for…” He waved his hand. “…that night. Kuroo-san, is it?”

“Ah, just Kuroo is fine. This is Kenma.”

“Hello, Kenma-san.”

Kenma visibly froze and shivered. Kuroo smirked. “I think you’re giving Kenma flashbacks of an annoyingly loud half-Russian dimwit who used to call Kenma that back in high school.”

“Ah, I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay, and you don’t have to tack on the -san,” Kuroo offered. Kenma blinked, gave a small nod and then looked back down at the screen.

“That’s what I keep telling him,” Bokuto picked a plate of nigiri sushi and norimaki off the conveyor belt. He slid the norimaki towards Akaashi. “This is for your treachery last night.”

Akaashi stared at Bokuto. “You are rewarding me for this ‘treachery’?”

Bokuto paused to think, hand still on the plate. “No. I’m trying to demonstrate what you’re missing out on.”

“It’s not like I’ve never eaten nori sushi, Bokuto-san.”

Kuroo was looking at their exchange with an amused expression on his face, while all the while Kenma sat in silence, hunched over the game console in his hands.

“Settling a feud, are we? Fill me in. I’ll be the judge,” Kuroo volunteered.

“Ah, yes! Kuroo!” Bokuto chirped. “Akaashi here said he prefers sushi wrapped in _pancake_ than seaweed. Can you imagine sushi that isn’t wrapped in seaweed?”

“I didn’t say I prefer them over nori sushi,” Akaashi started defensively. “I was just saying they probably taste pretty good.”

“Well…” Kuroo tilted his head to the side. “My favourite kind of sushi are those wrapped in soy paper so…”

Akaashi’s face lit up. Bokuto looked greatly offended. 

“Kuroo! That’s gross!”

“It is kinda gross,” Kenma piped up, eyes staying where they were on the screen. “I keep telling Kuro that.”

“Thank you Kenma!”

“What’s your favourite sushi then, Kenma?” Kuroo turned to Kenma next to him.

Kenma looked up, blinking. “I eat any kind of sushi that isn’t wrapped in nori or soy papers. I can’t stand both of them.”

Bokuto buried his face in his hands as Kuroo looked over at him smugly. Even Akaashi looked like he’d just won a battle. 

“Three to one. I win again, Bokuto-san.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh maaaaaaan, I ate too much. Kuroo. Hey, Kuroo. Piggyback me. Carry me back home. I can’t walk.”

“No way, man. I’m not hauling your ass through five kilometers in this fucking cold.”

“Ughhhhhhhh.”

They were walking back the way they’d come from, the weather gradually getting chiller as it approached winter. Bokuto could already see barely visible wisps of vapour appearing before him everytime he opened his mouth to exhale. Kuroo had caught up to him right after they left the sushi restaurant, leaving Akaashi and Kenma to walk behind them.

“So,” Kuroo lowered his voice, his tone deep. “How’s it going with Serious-kun?”

Bokuto raised an eyebrow at the nickname. “How’s what going?”

“Well,” Kuroo’s face split into a lopsided grin. “I thought you wanted to get into his pants.”

Bokuto slapped a hand over Kuroo’s mouth, chancing a glance backwards at the quiet duo behind them. “Why the fuck are you so obscene?”

“You’re one to say,” Kuroo mumbled through Bokuto’s palm. Bokuto retracted his hand and wiped it forcefully on Kuroo’s shirt. 

“It’s not like that, okay? You make it sound like I’m always in it for the sex.”

Kuroo arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

Bokuto gritted his teeth when he realised Kuroo had a point. Bokuto never really got emotionally attached to anyone, not even former fuckbuddies that he kept in his contacts, just in case. And the closest to an intimate relationship he’d ever gotten into was when he left the bar with this tall brunette biology major he’d eyed on campus a couple of times, had a night of phenomenal sex, and then left his apartment the next morning. He never saw him again.

It wasn’t like he didn’t try. Whenever he looked at Kuroo and Kenma he felt an inexplicable and illogical lump in his throat, like he didn’t quite understand and couldn’t quite relate and maybe he felt a little empty? Then he would go down to the bar, reel in an attractive guy for the night and forget about everything. Rinse, lather, repeat.

“Quite frankly,” Kuroo placed both his hands behind his head, elbows jutted out. “I didn’t think you’d be into that type. I mean, obviously my opinion’s changed after today, but I initially thought he was some kind of rich kid snob who thinks he’s too good for everyone.”

“That’s not true!” Bokuto surprised even himself with the intensity of his protest.

Kuroo blinked. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I said my opinion has changed.” He sighed. “He actually reminds me of Kenma a little.”

“Huh. I guess I can see that.”

“Oi, don’t avoid the main subject dude, do you want to fuck him or not?”

Bokuto shot Kuroo a stink-eye. “Perhaps my reputation precedes me—“

“Oh, it definitely does.”

“—but contrary to popular belief, I am more than a horny guy with a dick.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at Bokuto. “Are you saying that you want more from Serious-kun than just sex?”

Why did everything that come out of Kuroo’s mouth have to sound so vulgar? “What, you thought the only thing I think about when I see my roommate is _whether I want to have sex with him_?” He was furiously whisper yelling now.

“ _That’s what you told me!_ ” Kuroo responded in kind.

Bokuto threw his hands up in frustration. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t want to have sex with him.” He paused. “Well, not that I _wouldn’t_ if he offered, but—“

“Bokuto,” Kuroo’s voice was firm. “It sounds like you’re developing feelings for Serious-kun.”

“ _What?_ You couldn’t be further away from the point.” _Couldn’t he?_ “He’s pretty, and even I am allowed to admire aesthetic beauty, alright.”

Kuroo’s lips lifted into the beginnings of a smirk. “Is that so?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I guess I _could_ just ask him myself…” 

“Hey, stay away from my roommate.”

“Oh?” Kuroo smirked. 

Bokuto felt uneasy at the way that ‘oh’ lilted. “What?”

“Nothing,” Kuroo turned away and hummed lightly. Bokuto felt like Kuroo had just stolen something from him. The conflict in his head from a while ago was fading, and Bokuto was glad because he couldn’t make sense of _any_ of it and so he wouldn’t.

“Hey, Akaa-“

Bokuto turned around and stopped, staring. Kuroo noticed his abrupt halt and stopped too, eyes following Bokuto’s line of vision before hitting the target and going wide.

Akaashi was hunched over Kenma’s PSP and Kenma was holding it out closer to Akaashi so he could see the screen clearly. Both their tiny faces were flushed with excitement, and even Kenma was beaming, an emotion other than inscrutable deadpan glimmering in his eyes. His fingers flew deftly across the console buttons while Akaashi pointed at the screen.

“There, go through that door, careful there’s a jumpscare around here…” Akaashi gasped when suspense music started blaring through the speakers. “Oh god no turn here! Turn here!”

“I can’t! It’s blocked!” Kenma’s voice rose, eyes wide, tension colouring his cheeks but the corners of his mouth curving slightly upwards. 

Akaashi was chewing on his bottom lip. “Okay, never mind just turn around and—“ There was the sound of ugly gurgling and blood graphics splattered across the screen. Both Akaashi and Kenma groaned.

“That was so close.”

“You nearly had it—“

Akaashi blinked in surprise when he realised the other two guys had been staring at them all this while. Immediately the flurry of emotions just a second ago flattened out, save for the confusion in his eyes. Kenma noticed the cut off in Akaashi’s words and his face blanked out too as he raised his gaze to meet Kuroo and Bokuto’s. 

“Amazing,” Kuroo breathed. Bokuto could only nod.

“Um,” Akaashi looked around uncertainly. “Did something happen?”

“ _How_ ,” Bokuto whisper-exclaimed.

Akaashi furrowed his eyebrows at him. 

Kenma was starting to look annoyed and continued walking as if he’d never stopped. Kuroo caught up to him and stayed by his side but not before flashing an impressed look at Akaashi. “Keiji was telling me about the Outlast DLC called Whistleblower. It recently was made available for the PSP.” Bokuto heard Kenma telling Kuroo, the spark in his eyes returning. 

He turned back to Akaashi. “ _How_ ,” he repeated.

This time, Akaashi narrowed his eyes at him. “How what?”

“How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“It took me almost two weeks for him to feel comfortable enough talking to me. He even called you _Keiji_.”

Akaashi shrugged. “That is my name after all. And Kenma’s really nice. We play a lot of the same games. I’m not sure why you’re making a fuss about this.”

“You play games?”

Akaashi frowned at him. “That sounded really condescending, Bokuto-san." 

Bokuto waved his hands hurriedly. “No, I mean, you were so reluctant to even watch TV!”

Bokuto couldn’t read the expression on Akaashi’s face as he said, “There were better times.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Come on, Bokuto-san.” They continued walking after the duo in front.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then, “Akaashi?" 

“Yeah?”

“Can I call you Keiji too?”

“No.” The reply was swift.

Bokuto’s lips pulled into a pout. “Aww, Akaashi…”

“No, Bokuto-san.”

The grey-streaked haired university student’s whines and pleas could be heard all the way from Sushi Nanba to Meiji University.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://akaa-shi.tumblr.com) / [twitter](http://twitter.com/seawxxd)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watercolour rain puddle and cookies 'n creme ice cream.

It was a week later when Akaashi experienced Bokuto’s dejected mood for the first time.

It was raining heavily that day, had been for almost a week now, and the combination of interminable rain and wintry weather cast a shadow of gloom over the students of Meiji University. Outdoor activities were cancelled and people travelled between destinations in a hurry in order to escape the rain. 

Bokuto was no exception, and being the kind of person who preferred sunshine and clear skies, the rainy season brought his mood down a couple of notches lower than usual. 

He was running through the rain to get back to the dorms because fuck, why weren’t there any roofed pathways that led from campus to the dorms? And while he had brought an umbrella with him, it wasn’t enough to completely shield him _and_ the half-completed painting under his arm from the rain. His art class was having a class exhibition the following week, and right then, the state of his painting held more weightage than his own life.

As the irony of life would have it, Bokuto was almost at Izumi House when he felt something drop from the clamp his arm had on his torso, felt his breath hitch and his heart stop when he heard an ugly ‘plonk’ followed by the sound of splashing water. Bokuto was muttering ‘no’s under his breath when he turned around and saw his painting lying flat in the middle of a giant puddle. The colours that seeped out and into the puddle felt like the flowing of blood leaving his own veins. 

Passers-by were starting to stare at him and then at the painting with pity pooling in their eyes, and Bokuto wanted to join them, wanted to be on the spectating end of this disaster, wanted to be able to afford to think ‘thank God I’m not him’. But it _was_ him and there was nothing he could do but step forward to pick up his destroyed painting with trembling fingers and toss it into the nearby trash can in frustration. 

Great. All his effort for the past nine hours on campus had gone to waste. It was all he could ruminate about as he hobbled back to his room dejectedly, thinking about the limited remaining time he had left until next week, but more importantly how satisfied he had been with his progress and then all of it had gone down the drain, literally.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d spent staring at an empty drawing block on his desk until the door swung open and Akaashi came in. Bokuto barely even noticed Akaashi’s presence until, “Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto blinked several times and then looked up at his roommate who was staring at him with concern. Bokuto barely even registered this, which was a shame because under normal circumstances, he’d be touched by the mere thought of Akaashi being worried about anything concerning him.

“Are you…okay?”

“Yeah.” Bokuto blinked at the white paper again. “No.”

Akaashi’s expression remain unchanged, still tinted with worry. “What happened?”

That was when Bokuto gave up on holding it in. He’d seen it coming from a distance away but he still couldn’t stop it when it hit him with the force of a bullet train.

He let his head drop onto the table forehead first as he emitted a high-pitched whine. “I’m the worst I literally could have prevented that from happening and yet I didn’t and now everything’s gone to shit and I’m fucked honestly just so fucked I don’t think I can do it anymore—“

Akaashi’s troubled stare turned into one of bewildered alarm. “Bokuto-san, calm down.”

“Noooo, Akaashi you don’t understaaaaaaand,” Bokuto’s antics were that of a five-year-old. “I’m a horrible human being and you should just leave me alone to die.”

There was a moment of stillness as Akaashi tried to process this whole new side to Bokuto he’d never seen before. 

“Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto didn’t reply. His shitty human existence didn’t even deserve to reply to his beautiful roommate. 

“Um, you’re scaring me a little.”

God, what a great day to grab a shovel and dig his own grave. The rain would complement the gravedigging atmosphere perfectly.

Bokuto heard the sound of Akaashi’s footsteps pattering across the room and then a frantic knock on the next door. Their voices were deliberately hushed but Bokuto could still hear everything. Nothing was soundproof on this floor after all.

“Kuroo-san, I think Bokuto-san’s…not feeling well.”

“Eh? Really? Does he need to go to the doctor?”

“No. Well, I don’t know. But he’s quieter than usual and not talking. Too quiet.”

A brief pause. “Is he asking you to leave him alone to die again?”

Bokuto could hear the very slight surprise in Akaashi’s voice. “Yes. And he has his head on the desk, not moving. Frankly it’s a little frightening.” 

The sound of Kuroo sighing. “It’s just one of his moods again. He’ll bounce back, but until then, he’s going to be a pain.” Damn you, Kuroo. He was right, of course, but damn you, Kuroo. “There’s not much you or anyone else can do, really. He usually just rides it out on his own.”

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t we do something?”

“It’s nothing serious. Well, at least I hope it isn’t this time.” Bokuto imagined Kuroo’s eyebrows twitching at those words. “Really, it’s just a giant pity party he throws for himself when things don’t go his way sometimes. He’ll be back up in no time.”

Bokuto expected Akaashi to open the door and walk in after that, but when he didn’t and things were quiet for the next few minutes, he got surprised enough to lift his head to scan his surroundings. 

The sun had already gone down even though it was still early evening and dark orange hues spilled through the blinds and into the room. It was still raining heavily, showing no signs of stopping. He got up from his seat sluggishly and opened the door to peer outside.

No one was around. Nothing.

Bokuto sighed, mind still occupied with sympathy for himself as he settled into his chair again, burying his face in his head. Kuroo wasn’t wrong. There wasn’t much other people could do or say to him to get him to feel better about himself for half an hour at least, so they usually left him alone until the grey clouds passed and Bokuto managed to jump over the hurdles that were his short-lived insecurities and doubts. He supposed that was what Akaashi had done.

Despite that, he felt pretty sad that Akaashi had left.

He was lightly tapping his pencil against the drawing block, calculating specifically the number of hours he had left until the exhibition when the door opened and Akaashi walked in, a plastic bag in his hand.

The creases on his forehead evened out a little when he noticed Bokuto wasn’t trying to suffocate himself by pressing his face onto his table anymore. “Bokuto-san. You look better.”

“A little,” Bokuto offered, and maybe that was the truth. He looked pointedly at the plastic bag in Akaashi’s hand, just as Akaashi fished a tub of cookies ’n creme ice cream out of it and placed it on the table in front of Bokuto. 

“Um,” Akaashi hesitated, as if he was not quite sure what to say. “I don’t know what happened, but when I was younger, whenever I felt sad my mother would bring in some ice cream for me to eat and I’d feel better after that. Works everytime without fail.” Akaashi produced two spoons and handed one over to Bokuto. “There’s even a scientific explanation for it. The sweetness stimulates the release of endorphins and activates the orbitofrontal cortex, which is where you process your emotions.”

Bokuto was at a loss for words, accepting the spoon mutely. His worries temporarily evaporated at the sight of the ice cream tub before him, trying to process —with his orbitofrontal cortex, he supposed— the sudden influx of feelings he was receiving. Bokuto loved ice cream of course, who doesn’t, but Akaashi going to the extent to buy it for him because he was being uncharacteristically mopey and low-spirited stirred a strange warmth in his gut. 

In the end, all he could say was a feeble, “You’re really smart, Akaashi.”

Akaashi’s cheeks lightly dusted pink. “Eat up,” he said, eyes skirting away to open the lid of the tub.

“Ah, cookies ’n creme. How did you know it was my favourite?”

“I didn’t.”

Bokuto wagged his spoon at Akaashi. “Kuroo told you?”

“No. It was the only flavour left in the shop.”

“The shopkeeper probably knew I was having a bad day.”

“I’m pretty sure it was just a coincidence.”

Bokuto ate a huge mouthful and hummed happily. Call it placebo, or endorphins release, or the mere fact that Akaashi was there, but Bokuto felt his spirits lift considerably.

Akaashi apparently noticed the shift in Bokuto’s mood. “So, um,” he began warily. “Was it because of Kuroo-san?”

Bokuto blinked in confusion. “Was what because of Kuroo?” He mumbled with ice cream in his mouth.

“You being so miserable.”

“Huh? Nah. Why would I be miserable because of Kuroo?”

“I don’t know…” Akaashi’s gaze trailed away. “I was assuming it was a couple fight or something. That’s why I went to find him.”

Bokuto choked on ice cream and coughed, his face turning an ugly shade of crimson as he tried to laugh and shout protests at the same time. If Akaashi had looked worried just now, he was positively panicking right then.

“Bokuto-san?!”

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” Bokuto croaked, hand massaging his throat as he dragged in a breath and doubled up with laughter, clutching his stomach. Tears trickled from his eyes as he looked up at a baffled Akaashi. “You thought Kuroo and I…are _dating_?”

Akaashi looked like he regretted saying anything. He fidgeted in his seat. “I just assumed. You guys seemed very close.”

All things considered, it wasn’t an all too illogical assumption to make, but the mere prospect of it sent Bokuto into hysterics again. 

“Yeah we are, I guess,” Bokuto wiped away his tears, not denying that fact. “But not in that way. Never. No. He’s the kind of person I’d jump onto moving trains with, but not take out on dates or whatever,” he swatted the thought away with a flick of his wrist. “Besides, he’s with Kenma. Have been ever since they were kids, but the idiot’s only truly come to terms with that just recently.”

Clarity flickered across Akaashi’s eyes. “I see. So they’re…” He pointed at the wall separating their room from Kuroo and Kenma’s.

“Yeah.”

“Do they ever…”

Bokuto cringed, recalling unpleasant memories. “Oh boy, yeah.”

“Yikes,” Akaashi murmured, and they both chuckled when their eyes met knowingly.

Bokuto scooped up another mouthful of ice cream, feeling tonnes better already. “I dropped my painting,” he started to explain. “We’re having a class exhibition next week and I’m part of it but the painting I’m going to submit got ruined in the rain just now and it sucked,” he mumbled around the spoon in his mouth. “It still sucks.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah. But it’s fine. I mean, if it was just now I would’ve said I preferred death but,” he shrugged. “It’s just more work, something being in university already guarantees.” 

Akaashi nodded and didn’t attempt to console him further with excessively motivational words, which Bokuto was actually very grateful for.

“Plus, my grandma told me once that if you don’t put in enough hard work into doing something, it doesn’t really qualify as your best so what you produce in the end wouldn’t even be worthy. She said we should always try to make ‘doing our best’ our ultimate goal, even if it’s not what other people think as ‘the best’,” Bokuto reminisced fondly. “In retrospect, I think she was probably talking about knitting. But it applies.”

Akaashi smiled. “She seems like a really wise person.”

“Yeah, she is. Lately though, she hasn’t been talking very much. I think even that tires her out.” Bokuto only realised the slight change in the atmosphere due to his words after they’d left his mouth. He quickly opened the topmost drawer of his desk and pulled out a photo album, hoping some photo viewing would ease the tension. “That’s her,” he pointed at a family photo taken 10 years ago in which his grandma was smiling. 

Akaashi leaned in, pointing. “Ah. Are those your parents?”

“Yep.”

“Is that…you?”

“Oh…” Bokuto realised too late he had shown Akaashi what he had looked like when he was 9 years old. “Yes. Don’t laugh, alright.”

“I’m not laughing,” Akaashi said with a devious smirk on his face. “You were pretty cute.”

Bokuto’s eyes lit up. “Was I? Was I, Akaashi?”

Akaashi blatantly ignored him. “I can’t believe you managed to get your hair to stand even way back then.”

“Mm hm. I guess it’s a family tradition. Or at least that’s what my brother tells me.” Bokuto’s eyes were still sparkling wide at the word ‘cute’.

“I see. What’s he doing now?”

“He’s a software engineer, living in Ikebukuro. Six years older than me. And that’s my younger sister,” Bokuto pointed at the toddler that was clinging onto his 9-year-old self’s arm in the photo. “Currently still in high school. Plays volleyball for the team I used to play too.”

“You used to play volleyball?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

Bokuto’s eyes widened. “No way!”

“Yeah.”

“What position?”

“Setter.”

“I was wing spiker,” Bokuto grinned, voice rising in excitement. “Can you toss for me sometimes, Akaashi?”

“Huh?” Akaashi was taken aback. “I wasn’t a regular on my team so I’m probably not that good…”

“I don’t care about that and we’re not playing to compete anymore. Please?”

“I guess so…" 

“Yay! Thanks Akaashi!” Bokuto’s eyes were wide as saucers and he was practically bouncing with enthusiasm at the thought of Akaashi setting for him. Bokuto was a really good volleyball player but didn’t pursue it further in university in favour of an art degree. Sometimes though he played leisurely at the gym with Kuroo. Kuroo was one of the very few people who was able to successfully block his spikes, much to his annoyance. Having one more person to play volleyball with would be nice. Especially if that person was Akaashi.

“What about you?” Bokuto asked. “Do you have any siblings?”

Akaashi shook his head. “No. Only child.”

“That must be nice.”

“Hm,” Akaashi pursed his lips. “That is fairly debatable.”

“Well, in terms of sharing stuff you don’t have to share with anyone else. You can have it all for yourself.”

“I suppose,” Akaashi’s gaze was distant. “But it gets pretty lonely sometimes.”

The fact that he had said that matter-of-factly instead of like it was a bad thing somehow made Bokuto feel worse. He suddenly understood why Akaashi kept to himself most of the time and was fine with minimal to none social interaction. Bokuto had initially pinned it on mere shyness but maybe it was because that was how it had always been for him.

“Well, not anymore,” Bokuto grinned and pointed his thumb at his chest. “You’ve got me!”

“Yeah, I’ve got you to drag me to watch overrated cooking shows and eat nori sushi,” Akaashi smiled. 

“Damn right. I’m telling you, siblings can be huge pains in the ass. It was probably a blessing in disguise for you.”

“Maybe.”

“Your parents didn’t want other kids, then?”

“I don’t know,” Akaashi shrugged. “My mother died when I was ten.”

Bokuto blanched. “Ah shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Akaashi waved his apology away. “It was a long time ago.” His lips pinched into a small smile. “Oikawa-san reminds me of her a bit.”

“Seriously?” Bokuto’s mouth fell open.

“Yeah, the way he talks and the aura about him…they’re quite similar.”

Bokuto was trying to chew on the fact that Oikawa Tooru had just been compared to Akaashi’s mom. “So…you’ve lived with your dad ever since?”

“Well, technically, yeah. But he was never really at home so it’s probably more accurate to say I lived with the kitchen helpers.”

Another pang to the heart. Kuroo was right about one thing at least. Akaashi _was_ a rich kid. But it seemed like Akaashi would rather drink molten lava than admit that out loud.

Akaashi’s eyes turned to observe Bokuto’s face, his own face immediately becoming guarded. “Ah, I know that look. That pity look. I always get that,” he shook his head. “I hate it.”

“No, Akaashi, I’m sor—“

Akaashi held up a hand, his shoulders tense again. “It’s fine, Bokuto-san. Let’s talk about something else. Ah, right, the ice cream is melting. I’ll keep it in the fridge if you don’t want it anymore.”

Bokuto shook his head and allowed Akaashi to pick up the ice cream tub and head for the kitchen, all the while staring at Akaashi’s usual reserved expression and his slumped shoulders. Bokuto recognised this scene, having experienced it multiple times wherein Akaashi would withdraw himself promptly upon touching the subject of his family or his life prior to coming here. He felt…melancholic, for lack of a better word, as he watched Akaashi’s retreating silhouette, because for a very brief moment back there Akaashi had opened up to him and he felt like he knew Akaashi just a little bit better.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://akaa-shi.tumblr.com) / [twitter](http://twitter.com/seawxxd)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war of instant coffee vs coffee beans and wandering indie streets at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another family outing! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Some time during that week, Bokuto got a text from Kuroo during class.

**To: Bokuto  
** **From: Kuroo  
** **Subject: SHOPPING  
** **i need to get some groceries and cereal for kenma. do you wanna join us after dinner later?**

A few seconds later,

**To: Bokuto  
** **From: Kuroo  
** **Subject: shopping  
** **oh and invite akaashi too if you want.**

Bokuto replied swiftly.

**To: Kuroo  
** **From: Bokuto  
** **Subject: Re: shopping  
** **sure thng ill ask him**

 

* * *

Akaashi was hunched over his table when Bokuto walked into the room, but instead of his usual heavy textbooks forming a massive pile of papers in front of him, he was writing in a blue notebook that Bokuto had never seen before.

“Hey hey, Akaashi!” Bokuto greeted, beaming broadly. Akaashi looked like a startled bird as he jumped in his seat and quickly closed his book. Bokuto raised his eyebrows in surprise but didn’t say anything. “Kuroo and Kenma are going grocery shopping later, do you want to join us?”

Bokuto half-expected Akaashi to reject the invitation outright but Akaashi only arched an eyebrow and asked, “You guys shop for cooking groceries?”

“Yeah! We do!” Bokuto was extra careful not to accidentally say ‘I do’ to avoid lying through his teeth.

Akaashi had a right to be astounded, since the only people who ever truly utilized the kitchen for its cooking purposes were Kuroo and Iwaizumi, a whopping two out of eight residents. Judging by the near perpetual state of disuse of the kitchen, Akaashi wouldn’t be too far off in assuming no one on the fifth floor shopped for groceries and then cooked them.

Akaashi thought about it for a while. “Okay,” he said simply.

“Oh. That was…easy,” Bokuto blinked.

“I thought maybe I could start cooking my meals now,” Akaashi shrugged nonchalantly. 

“You cook?” 

“Sometimes. Don’t you?”

“Okay! We’ll leave at 7PM then! I gotta go grab some stuff from the art supplies store, see you later Akaashi!” Bokuto’s voice was too high and he left before Akaashi could enquire about it further.

 

* * *

 

“Do you know you text like Kenma?” Kuroo had his right arm around Kenma’s shoulders as the younger boy concentrated on the console in his hands, head turning slightly to direct the question at Bokuto who was walking behind him.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Like, you don’t use capitalizations or apostrophes or punctuations either if you can help it.”

“But you text like that too!”

“Nuh-uh,” Kuroo waggled his index finger. “I spell all my words out _and_ use punctuation everytime.”

Bokuto scowled at him. “That sounds like the kind of thing Princess Oikawa would say.”

“Hey,” Kuroo threw a look over his shoulder. “That was uncalled for. Take it back.”

“I agree with Koutarou,” Kenma huffed. 

Bokuto shot Kuroo a smug look.

“I don’t mind when you do it,” Kuroo’s gaze softened into fondness when it landed on Kenma, his fingers playing with a lock of Kenma’s hair.

“I know,” Kenma hummed.

Kuroo grinned at Bokuto. Bokuto rolled his eyes.

“What about you, Akaashi? How do you text?” Bokuto turned to Akaashi walking beside him. “That reminds me, I don’t even have your number!”

“You don’t need it. We see each other everyday,” Akaashi answered dryly.

Bokuto could see Kuroo snickering from the corner of his eye. “Ah, but what if I was stuck in the toilet without any toilet paper?”

“You can call Kuroo-san.”

“Or if I saw your favourite pudding and wanted to get it for you?”

“I don’t like pudding.”

“Or if you didn’t come back at night and I got worried?”

Akaashi sighed. “I come back earlier than you do everyday, Bokuto-san.”

“Akaashi…” Bokuto pouted but before Akaashi could respond to that, Kuroo announced that they had reached their destination. A bright pink sign with the word ‘JUSCO’ loomed over them. 

As they headed for the entrance with automatic sliding doors, Kenma suddenly turned around. “Keiji, you should probably prepare yourself for the shopping wars between these two.”

Akaashi stared wide-eyed at Kenma, then at Bokuto and Kuroo. “What?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Bokuto said at the very same time Kuroo remarked, “You’ll see soon enough.”

And he did see, 10 minutes later when Bokuto and Kuroo started arguing in the coffee aisle.

“You’re not putting that instant coffee powder crap in my trolley.”

“Fine! I’ll just hold it then, coffee bean snob!”

Kuroo scoffed. “Like that’s an insult! I like my coffee non-carcinogenic and without poison, thanks.”

“What the fuck? Where did you even hear that from?”

“On the Internet! I saw a bunch of long ass scientific names that obviously mean very bad chemicals and shit!”

“Well, fuck your unreliable sources and fuck your stupid coffee beans, you asshole!”

“Great, ‘cause fuck you too!”

They stomped off opposite ends of the aisle like five year olds as everyone within earshot glared at them. Akaashi and Kenma exchanged agonized looks before Kenma followed Kuroo and Akaashi after Bokuto.

“Does this happen everytime you guys go grocery shopping?”

“Pretty much!” The rage in Bokuto’s voice hadn’t really left.

Akaashi massaged his temples with his fingers and sighed. “Okay, well, let’s go look at some vegetables to calm you down, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto didn’t protest and followed suit. Akaashi picked out some cabbages and carrots while Bokuto looked on the whole while, staring impressively at the fact that Akaashi, unlike many other college students his age besides Kuroo, knew what he was doing when it came to selecting vegetables. Akaashi had placed a carton of eggs, a one-kilogram packet of rice, weighed pieces of fish and meat and the vegetables into his basket when he turned to Bokuto, looking at him pointedly. “Aren’t you getting anything, Bokuto-san?”

“Hm?” Bokuto had been relatively quiet after the coffee quarrel, merely following Akaashi around like a little kid holding onto his mother’s hand in a market, except Akaashi only shot daggers at him when he proposed the hand-holding part. “Oh. No. Not these. I, uh, don’t know how to cook.”

Akaashi’s eye twitched. “You don’t know how to cook? But you were critiquing every single thing the chefs were doing when we watched Masterchef the other day.”

“Ah, well,” Bokuto gave a shrug. “I am seasoned in the art of watching Masterchef and not actually…Masterchef-ing itself…”

“So just now when you said you also shopped for cooking groceries…”

“I meant Kuroo, yeah,” Bokuto smiled sheepishly.

After that, it was Akaashi’s turn to follow Bokuto around as he picked his goods — a carton of milk, a box of cereal and a packet of biscuits. Akaashi looked disgruntled, offended, even.

“Is this all you’re getting as food supplies for a month?”

“Yup.”

Akaashi shook his head in disbelief. “How dare you side-eye me for eating biscuits for lunch the other day.”

“I didn’t! I invited you out for sushi!"

“You side-eyed me _then_ invited me out for sushi.”

Considering how sturdily-built Bokuto was, it would come as a surprise to anyone that his daily diet came in the form of cereal, biscuits and coffee with the occasional sandwich if he was running late to class and then 100 yen sushi for dinner at the tiny sushi shop right outside the university. Sometimes Kuroo would offer him some leftovers from his cooking but that was few and far between. Bokuto had a personal motto of not caring what he consumed as long as he was eating and surviving.

Another fight almost broke out at the payment counter when they regrouped with Kuroo and Kenma, who had their trolley filled with actual food products like the ones in Akaashi’s basket. 

“Dude, really? I keep telling you time and time again you need to eat real food instead of all this shit. Even Serious-kun—“ Akaashi winced at the nickname. “—knows where it's at. I’ve already got Kenma to worry about, I don’t have time to worry about you.”

“Are you my fucking mom, Kuroo?”

“I wish I am so I can nag you everyday to _fucking eat food meant for human beings._ ”

“How are they still friends?” Akaashi hid his face with his palms as the incredulous scene unravelling before him started to attract attention.

Kenma let his hair fall to cover his face. “They forget as soon as they leave this place until Kuroo proposes another grocery shopping trip and then it happens all over again.” He heaved a sigh. “That’s why I prefer to just get my cereal at the campus convenience store.”

 

* * *

 

The four of them walked back to campus after that with plastic bags of different sizes in tow. Sure enough, just as Kenma said, Bokuto and Kuroo started chatting away freely once they’d left the building, leaving Akaashi to ponder over this baffling anomaly (Kenma was already more than used to it). 

Bokuto was telling Kuroo that Akaashi also played volleyball in high school and Kuroo was exclaiming that his school used to play tonnes of practice matches against Akaashi’s school and why haven’t I seen you before though oh you’re not a regular ouch Bokuto why did you punch me I didn’t mean that in a condescending manner when Kuroo suddenly halted in his tracks and turned around, face taking on a deathly pallor.

“Where’s Kenma?!”

It became clear all too soon that it had only been the three of them walking along the streets for a while now, Kenma nowhere in sight. Although it was getting rather late, Chiyoda was a fairly busy town filled with students even at night, but Bokuto wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing if one were to get lost.

“Shit,” Kuroo’s eyes were widening frantically in panic and he was spinning around to look at his surroundings. “Do you guys remember when you saw him last?” His hands scrambled to retrieve his phone, fingers flying over the keypad in a hurry to call Kenma.

Bokuto and Akaashi shook their heads no, regrettably admitting that they hadn’t been paying attention. A drunk man wobbled past them as they scanned their immediate whereabouts and the sight of him sent Kuroo further into a state of agitation. 

“He’s not picking up,” Kuroo lowered his phone and stared intensely at the screen as if Kenma would pop out of it all of a sudden. “Fuck!”

“Calm down, think clearly,” Bokuto rubbed Kuroo’s back in consolation. “You said he often gets lost right?”

“Yeah but this isn’t Minato where I know every crook and corner and where he might go! This is a new place for him and even for me and—“ he shuddered as his eyes followed the drunk man. “—there’s no saying what kind of people are out and about at this hour.” He bit his lip. “And you know Kenma, he’s always on his phone so why wouldn’t he pick up…”

“We should split up to look for him. The sooner the better,” Akaashi said, voice calm and firm.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Kuroo’s voice steadied but there was still a hint of panic to it. Bokuto had only seen this look in his friend’s eyes last year when Kuroo was having a hard time accepting his sexuality. It was nerve-wrecking to see it in person again. 

“Okay,” Bokuto patted Kuroo reassuringly, which turned out a bit awkward since Kuroo was slightly taller than Bokuto. “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. He probably got caught up in his games and wandered off. Kenma’s smart, he knows how to get himself out of danger if he needs to.” Bokuto said it mostly for Kuroo’s sake, but he was also mighty worried; he’d never seen Kenma without Kuroo by his side before.

They backtracked their steps until the road branched out into two junctions. “I’ll take this one,” Kuroo pointed down a street full of small eateries.

“Okay, we’ll take this one then,” Bokuto started moving towards the second junction. “I’ll go with Akaashi since he’s new to this place too.”

Bokuto saw Akaashi opening his mouth and then paused, resorting to a nod.

Kuroo nodded. “Okay. Call if anything,” and then he sprinted down the road without a backward glance.

The streets Bokuto and Akaashi walked along were pretty well-lit and Bokuto allowed himself to breathe easier. There were a lot of people milling around —people their age presumably from Meiji as well— and none of them looked like the shady kind.

“This place doesn’t look too dangerous,” Akaashi echoed Bokuto’s thoughts. “Kenma shouldn’t be in any danger even if he doesn’t know where he is.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto agreed. “That’s a relief.”

“Kuroo cares about Kenma a lot.” The way Akaashi said it sounded like an underlying question, to which Bokuto answered, “He really, really does.”

They walked on more, peering into cafés and bookstores, sometimes asking passers-by if they’d seen a guy with chin-length bleached blonde hair, most probably looking at a PSP in his hand when walking.

Everyone shook their head no.

The place reminded Bokuto of Shimokitazawa a little, filled with quaint cafés and mini art galleries and young adults with quirky dress senses — not as quirky as Harajuku but it had the makings of it.

They passed by no small number of these tiny art galleries, wooden panelled walls filled with paintings and canvases, as well as sculptures and 3D-designed art pieces. They were interesting, vastly different from the grandeur and majesty of national galleries and exhibitions but retaining the artistic vibe in addition to a homely and more personal touch between admirers and the art pieces themselves. Since there were no restrictive rules imposed upon artists as there would be in bigger scaled galleries, expression came more freely and uniquely, which was why small scaled privately-owned galleries were just as, if not more, intriguing to visit as the national ones.

Bokuto was thinking about his class exhibition next week and his future career as a full-fledged artist. He was thinking he’d love, more than anything, to have his works hung on the walls of these small galleries. Sure, perhaps it wouldn’t be as lucrative as being sold off to wealthy merchants, but he wanted to pass on the deed of inspiring other young artists, just like he was one before.

“Say, Akaashi,” Bokuto said suddenly, mind still high in the clouds of doing the things he loved as a career one day, eyes never stopping to scan for the silhouette of a pudding head among the crowds. “What do you want to be when you grow up?' 

Akaashi blinked in surprise at the sudden conversation topic. “Well, I suppose since I’m studying law…a lawyer?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“I don’t know, it just seems like the right and logical path to take.”

Bokuto’s eyes were heavy on Akaashi. “But it doesn’t seem like you enjoy it.”

Akaashi shrugged, and Bokuto recognised the familiar pained look that flashed across his face. “I don’t think I get to decide what I do in the future, much less whether I enjoy it or not.”

“But why? It’s your future, after all!”

Bokuto was afraid that perhaps he’d crossed a line, the line that Akaashi had always jumped away from whenever he had toed it in the past, those brief moments when Akaashi reeled in hurriedly before dismissing it altogether and Bokuto was left wondering what had just happened.

Akaashi was quiet for a few minutes as they continued moving, looking for Kenma. And then he closed his eyes and sighed. “I want to be a writer.”

Bokuto’s eyes dilated in surprise, but he felt as if Akaashi still had more to add to that, so he kept quiet.

Akaashi continued after a pause, as if he’d just made a heartfelt confession, and all things considered, it might as well be one. “I want to be a writer,” he repeated. “I love writing. Always have, since I was young. I wrote on any surface I could get my hands on, and when my mother was still alive, she’d read me stories every night before bed and the next day I’d try to write stories of my own.”

Akaashi stared straight ahead, as if he was looking at something that wasn’t there. Bokuto wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen this side of Akaashi before.

“When my mother died, writing was all I had to keep myself sane, and for once I was sure about one thing about myself: that I love writing and I’m good at it. So it only made sense that when it was time for me to start thinking about my future, I wanted to do something I liked and was good at,” Akaashi shrugged. “I wanted to study literature, but my father said it would be a waste of time to invest in an _art_ degree, amongst other things,” Akaashi’s face contorted in displeasure. 

“So he made you study law?”

“Well, yeah,” Akaashi frowned. “The thing is, it’s not without reason. For one, he owns a law firm, and I suppose he’s hoping I’ll take over the company someday. He also asked me to think about what other people would think of him and our family name if I were to graduate with a degree in literature,” Akaashi let loose a mirthless laugh. “Because obviously Akaashi Associates is a big name and my measly literature degree isn’t going to get me anywhere. Might not even provide for my daily meals. When you think about it, he does have a point.” 

Bokuto allowed Akaashi’s words to sink in, images of Akaashi hunched over his desk slaving away at huge textbooks until the wee hours of the morning flashing across his mind. 

“Even if you think he’s got a point,” Bokuto said slowly. “It always looks like studying law is killing you from the inside, and I can say that with confidence because I always keep an eye out to make sure I forcefully drag you away from your desk before your soul leaves your body.” Akaashi laughed. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to spend the rest of their lives doing something they absolutely hate, even if they think it’s right. Because as soon as you factor your dislike into the equation, it’s never right.”

Akaashi was silent, his expression unreadable, and Bokuto was afraid he’d overstepped boundaries again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“You’re right,” Akaashi sighed. “But unfortunately, I don’t think I have a say in any of this.”

“If there’s anyone who has the right to have a say in _your_ life, it’s _you_.”

They were quiet for a while. Akaashi looked deep in thought until he spoke up, “I’m envious of you, Bokuto-san.”

His words took Bokuto by surprise. “Huh? Why?”

“You’re doing the thing you love— painting, and you don’t care what other people might think. You do it for yourself, and,” Bokuto must be seeing things, just like how he was seeing a faint shade of pink tint Akaashi’s pale cheeks under the streetlights. “I really admire the passion you pour into your artworks, how completely at ease you look whenever you’re concentrating on painting, like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be, nothing else you’d rather do. I, um,” Akaashi’s cheeks were definitely red now. “I keep an eye out for you too.”

If they were two-dimensional characters with cartoon features, Bokuto reckoned he would be drawn with stars in his eyes then as he gaped at Akaashi, feeling heat crawl up his neck and dusting his cheeks. An unfamiliar shiver ran up his spine, but it wasn’t the kind that you got when you hear horror movie music or see a spider scuttle across the floor; it was rather pleasant, sending tingles to his fingers while his heart beat rapidly out of rhythm. _What is this_? He couldn’t quite place a finger on it, having never experienced it before. All he knew was he felt a sudden strong urge — _to do what_?— when he saw Akaashi smiling shyly at him—

Kanye West’s I Am A God blasted through the night and just like that, the atmosphere broke. Bokuto scrambled to retrieve his ringing phone from his pocket as Akaashi averted his gaze, eyes moving along the sidewalk. 

It was Kuroo.

“Hello?” Bokuto said breathily. Why was he out of breath? “Kuroo? Did you find him?”

“Yes,” Kuroo sounded like he’d just run a marathon. Bokuto breathed a sigh of relief. He put up three fingers in an ‘OK’ gesture at Akaashi and Akaashi nodded back, features relaxing. “He got distracted by a video game shop and thought he’d catch up to us later but obviously he didn’t realise how long he was in there.” Kuroo sounded tired and exasperated, but not angry. Never angry, not when it concerned Kenma. “I’m bringing him back now. Meet us at the junction?”

“Yeah, of course,” Bokuto hung up and relayed the news to Akaashi before walking back the way they’d come together.

The previous short-lived ambience that had appeared out of nowhere —the thought still sent little electric sparks through his veins— had obviously dissolved and he knew he wasn’t the only one who’d felt it. But Akaashi was also quiet as they made their way down a now familiar street so Bokuto didn’t say anything. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence— quite the contrary. Bokuto felt his heart soaring the way it normally would upon completing a painting and the night air hummed around him pleasantly. He peeked at Akaashi from the corner of his eye and was glad to see the corners of Akaashi’s mouth curved upwards. 

“Hey Akaashi,” Bokuto stretched his arms as a cool night breeze blew over them. “Want to get dinner together tomorrow?”

“No, Bokuto-san,” was Akaashi’s prompt reply and Bokuto’s face started to fall when he continued, “I’m going to cook, in Kuroo-san’s words, _food meant for human beings_ and you’re going to eat it.”

Akaashi was practically dragging Bokuto all the way down the streets because Bokuto was clinging onto his arm, eyes wide with excitement like a toddler going to the zoo for the first time, chirping excitedly, “Really, Akaashi? Really? What are you going to cook? Is it omurice? Donburi? Uwaaah Akaashi is going to cook for me!!" 

Bokuto would only come to realise much, much later that the strong urge he had felt stemmed from the desire to press his lips to Akaashi’s.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> while writing the coffee war all i could think about was that scene in ouran high school host club when all the rich kids stared at the jar of instant coffee in wonder before tamaki stood up and nobly exclaimed that he will drink it 
> 
> and i don't even drink coffee... (the only thing i've ever ordered at starbucks is, you guessed it, matcha frappuccino)
> 
> [tumblr](http://akaa-shi.tumblr.com) / [twitter](http://twitter.com/seawxxd)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Throwing garlic pieces and 2AM cup ramen.

In the evening of the next day, Bokuto was seated at the dining table waiting rather impatiently as Akaashi busied himself in the kitchen. Several times Bokuto attempted to offer helping him because he really wanted to see Akaashi cook and also because he was desperately trying to find a reason to look at him _in an apron_ for as long as he could but each time Akaashi threw chopped up pieces of garlic at him to get him to leave. It almost made Bokuto feel like he was being warded off the way a vampire would be.

“But whyyyyyy?” Bokuto whined from behind the doorway. He tilted his head sideways a little to catch a glimpse of Akaashi by the stoves and received a garlic piece to the eye. “Ow!” He slapped a hand over his now flaming eyeball.

Akaashi’s voice showed no sign of pity or remorse. “Keep it up Bokuto-san and the garlic will be upgraded to chillis.” The sound of pots and pans clanging interrupted his words. “Besides, this kitchen is too small to accommodate two people. And I don’t want you to accidentally set the kitchen on fire.”

“Awwww,” Bokuto pouted and returned to the table. “Can’t you at least tell me what you’re cooking?”

“No.”  


Bokuto drummed his fingers on the table, head resting on his palm propped up by his elbow. He was trying to deduce what Akaashi was cooking based on the smells wafting out of the kitchen when the door to the room next to the kitchen opened and Iwaizumi walked out, tugging at his sleeves.

“Ah, Iwaizumi!” Bokuto grinned and held up a hand in greeting. 

The buff spiky-haired man smiled, nodding in response. “Hey, Bokuto.”

“Wanna join us for dinner? Akaashi’s cooking!”

“No thanks. I’m taking out the trash tonight,” Iwaizumi politely declined.

Bokuto barely had time to remark that he wasn’t on the duty roster to take out the garbage for the week and also he could take out the trash _and then_ have dinner after that before a sickeningly honeyed voice drifted through the air.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa emerged from the room, shining white teeth displayed in a ridiculously wide grin. “Where are we going for dinner?”

Bokuto understood immediately. 

He tilted his head back and nodded at Iwaizumi in mutual acknowledgment, mouth rising into a knowing smirk. “I see. Have fun! Remember to wash your hands.”

“Thanks. I always do.”

Oikawa noticed Bokuto’s presence then, eyebrows furrowing at the conversation that was taking place which he was obviously left out of. “What are you guys talking about?” He turned to face Iwaizumi. “Did you get your hands dirty, Iwa-chan?" 

“Yeah, from all your dirty laundry all over the floor,” Iwaizumi shot back and Oikawa’s confusion changed into a sheepish grin. “C’mon let’s go, Assikawa. See you, Bokuto.”

“Bye bye!” Oikawa waved at Bokuto and then rushed after Iwaizumi. “You really gotta work on your insults, Iwa-chan.”

“I’ll start working on my insults when you start working on your shitty personality.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan!”

The door to the unit slammed shut at the same moment Akaashi emerged from the kitchen. 

“Was that Oikawa-san and Iwaizumi-san?” Akaashi asked, hands holding a tray with a lid over it. 

“Yup,” Bokuto whipped around, eyes lighting up at the sight of Akaashi in his apron. “Akaashi! You look so cute in an apro—“

Akaashi interrupted him by placing the tray onto the table in front of him rather loudly. “Okay, dinner’s ready.”

Bokuto was so excited he was quite literally squirming in his seat. He reached to open the lid but Akaashi smacked his hand away. “Hold on. I have a request.”

Bokuto cocked his head to a side. “A request?”

A devious grin slid onto Akaashi’s face. “Close your eyes, Bokuto-san.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

Bokuto looked at Akaashi weirdly. “If I’d known you were into this sort of thing…“

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “Bokuto-san, close your eyes so it’ll be a surprise.”

With a tiny squeal of “Ooh, I love surprises!” Bokuto shut his eyes, face splitting into an expectant grin.

“It’s a…small food item. I’ll put it in your hand and you can only open your eyes after you’ve put it into your mouth.”

If Kuroo was here, he’d probably be smirking despicably at him the entire time, Bokuto thought. “You can just feed me, Akaashi!”

“No.”

Bokuto held his hand out, palm turned upwards. He felt something warm and small being placed in the middle of it. He picked it up with his other hand and ate it.

Bokuto opened his eyes to Akaashi’s intense gaze at his face. “Well?” He asked.

Bokuto continued chewing, thinking. “It tastes good. It’s…strange, but it’s very good. It’s like sushi, isn’t it? Except…” Bokuto’s eyes widened as realisation hit him squarely in the face.

Akaashi’s smirk grew in size. 

Bokuto stopped chewing. “Akaashi,” he said seriously, levelling his gaze with his roommate. “What is this.”

Akaashi lifted up the lid covering the tray by way of response. Sitting neatly on it were two rows of sushi wrapped in —Bokuto gasped— pancake layers.

“I have committed a great sin.” Despite his words, Bokuto didn’t really have a choice except to munch on the remaining morsel of _pancake sushi_ in his mouth and swallow it. He wasn’t about to spit it out in front of Akaashi. He’d rather his ego took a beating than insult Akaashi’s cooking like that. In fact, he’d judo throw anyone who puked out food prepared by Akaashi; what kind of lowlife would so something so lecherous to such a pure being? 

“Ah, but you said it tastes good.”

“I was being polite.”

“You could’ve just spitted it out.”

Bokuto stared at Akaashi in shock. “Who did that?! Who has ever done that to you?! Tell me, Akaashi. I know judo.”

Akaashi looked at Bokuto incredulously and then laughed, squeezing his eyes shut and hiding his mouth behind his hand.

He looked so cute.

He looked so cute and Bokuto was a goner, the metaphorical arrow shooting straight through his heart. His face felt warm as he eventually dissolved into a puddle of giggles between proclamations of “I can’t believe you actually made me eat that” and “I can hear my grandma yelling at me”. 

“I win again, Bokuto-san,” was Akaashi’s declaration of victory, lips stretched into a winning smile that Bokuto could stare at forever.

 

* * *

 

“Knock knock.”

Bokuto almost tipped his palette over in a hurry to conceal his work-in-progress painting. He grabbed the nearest garment —which happened to be his shirt from a week ago draped over the back of his chair— and covered it hastily, then turned around to face his visitor with a guilt-ridden smile on his face.

Kuroo turned his face slightly sideways and squinted at Bokuto through narrowed slits of his eyes. “National Police Agency. You are hereby under arrest for…whatever you just hid under that stinky shirt.”

“Ha-ha. And your shirt’s the stinky one,” Bokuto rolled his eyes and tried to erase the mortification from his face. “What’s up?”

“I could ask you the very same thing,” Kuroo took two strides into the room and sprawled on Bokuto’s bed, lying on his stomach. He stretched his limbs and a disconcerting image of a cat stretching flashed across Bokuto’s mind. “It’s Friday night,” Kuroo peeked at Bokuto through his fringe.

“And?” Bokuto folded his arms across his chest.

“Aaaaaand,” Kuroo drawled and cracked his neck. “You’re here alone in your room. Like you usually wouldn’t be. Bokuto Koutarou not drinking his night away and fishing for innocent first-years at a club on a Friday night? Tragic.” He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around. “Where’s your roommate anyway?”

Bokuto swivelled around to face his desk so Kuroo wouldn’t see the heat spreading across his cheeks. “Akaashi’s at the library to borrow some books.” He picked up a paintbrush and started mixing colours on an untouched spot on his palette. Ultramarine and Cadmium Yellow. “And I don’t go there every week, do I?”

“Yes, but it’s been two months. That’s practically unheard of.”

Bokuto suppressed another eye roll. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Okachan.” His eyes followed the swirling patterns on his paintbrush. The resulting colour was a soothing green hue. 

Kuroo was right, of course. It was practically unheard of that Bokuto hadn’t gone out to have fun for a while. He didn’t feel the need nor want to, as opposed to last year when all he was looking forward to every weekend was drinking and fucking the stress away. He was already having fun, albeit a different kind of fun. He was having fun just hanging out with Akaashi.

He swallowed nervously.

Bokuto could feel Kuroo’s heavy gaze upon him. Kuroo broke the silence after a while. “You did it, didn’t you?”

“Did what?”

“You had sex with Serious-kun.”

“No!” Bokuto barked at his friend, trying to inject as much element of disbelief into his voice as possible. He flicked his wrist at Kuroo and ran his hand through his un-gelled hair. “No. Nah. Nein. Why. What made you say that.”

“No?” The disbelief in Kuroo’s voice was much more prominent and convincing. “But you’re looking so damn happy all the time nowadays.”

“I don’t!”

“You’re smiling right now, idiot.”

Bokuto cursed his own natural knee-jerk reactions and forced his lips into a neutral thin line. “No, I’m not.”

Kuroo shook his head. “What could possibly make you so happy if not the fact you got laid?”

Bokuto was mildly offended. “Hey,” he picked up his pillow and hurled it at Kuroo. “Please get it out of your thick skull that I’m not a sex-crazed pervert, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” Kuroo admitted defeat. “That’s not what I meant, but I thought for sure that you’d already done the do.”

“ _Why_?”

“Because,” Kuroo tossed the pillow into the air and caught it, tossed it again and caught it again. “You always look at Serious-kun as if the sun shines out of his ass.”

 

* * *

Bokuto found out when Akaashi’s birthday was by chance.

It was early in the morning and Akaashi was still asleep. Bokuto had a 9AM class and was getting ready when he had accidentally knocked over a book on Akaashi’s desk onto the floor. A yelp escaped from Bokuto’s mouth but Akaashi didn’t stir. Akaashi slept like a log, which was a blessing in disguise for Bokuto because he was a self-aware loud snorer and the last thing he wanted was for Akaashi to stay awake all night troubled by his snores, secretly hating him with each passing second.

The book fell sprawled open and when Bokuto bent down to pick it up, a bookmark fell out. Just as Bokuto was starting to perspire nervously because he didn’t know where the bookmark was inserted in, he noticed that the bookmark wasn’t actually a default bookmark but a birthday greeting card that said ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YOU’RE FIVE!’ on the yellowing cover accompanied by cartoon illustrations of a giant rabbit holding out a cake surrounded by multicoloured balloons. He had opened it unthinkingly upon impulse and in it were two lines — _Happy birthday, Keiji! Have a great day!_ — and then at the bottom, signed by ‘Aunt Aiko’ and the date.

Which was why, three days before the Japanese New Year and three hours before Akaashi’s last class on his timetable, Bokuto was cooking —pun unintended and unrealised until Kuroo pointed it out— up a birthday surprise plan for Akaashi before he came home.

“How very noble of you,” Kuroo’s lanky body was stretched out on the couch lazily, eyes not paying much attention to the TV screen in front of him. Kenma was curled up against Kuroo’s chest like a kitten, and Bokuto could hear the in-game sound effects of armour-against-armour clanging originating from the younger boy’s 3DS. “You weren’t even this enthusiastic when you agreed to a cook-off against me to decide who would get Kiyoshi-san’s juice blender that he was leaving behind.”

“That’s because,” Bokuto was having great difficulty chopping onions. His eyes felt sore and his onion pieces were either huge chunky blocks or too-thin slices. He was cooking —or at least, attempting to— yakisoba, stir-fried noodles with meat pieces and vegetables and the only cooking guide he had was a fuzzy memory of watching his mom prepare the dish about 10 years ago. “I knew I didn’t stand a chance against you. But this time it isn’t a competition, so I feel better about my performance.”

“What kind of person feels competitive only when there’s no competition?” Oikawa was occupying the lone seat couch, sipping tea from a mug with his pinky extended, much to Kuroo’s annoyance. Kuroo scowled at Oikawa but Oikawa plainly ignored him.

“Me, a person who does not work well under any pressure,” Bokuto stared at his onions, shrugged and moved on to carrots. He had already chopped through it halfway until he realised he hadn’t peeled or washed it. He groaned loudly. “How do you even _do it_?”

Bokuto could hear the grin in Kuroo’s voice. “Do you need any help, Bokuto-kun?”

“No, thank you,” Bokuto declined, tongue sticking out in concentration, feeling beads of sweat start to accumulate on his forehead. “This is _my_ birthday present for Akaashi.”

There was a moment of silence and Bokuto heard Oikawa choke on his tea, followed by him and Kuroo snickering. Bokuto started to turn around with a frown on his face but got distracted by a brown-ish region on the first layer of his cabbage. “Hey, Kuroo, if there are, like, brown spots on the cabbage leaf, can I still use it or do I throw the whole thing away?”

A shriek travelled across the room, “OH MY GOD, YOU ARE HOPELESS!”

“SHUT UP AND ANSWER MY QUESTION!”

“JUST CUT THE BROWN PARTS OFF, IDIOT!”

Bokuto bit his lower lip as he tore the parts with the brown spots off and ended up with one-fifth of the original leaf. 

“Ah!” Kuroo gasped suddenly and rushed to the kitchen. “He’s back!”  
  
Bokuto whirled around in horror. “Akaashi?!”

“No,” Kuroo was whisper-yelling now. “Tsukki!”

Bokuto’s face lit up as he abandoned his cooking station temporarily and followed Kuroo out to the common room. 

Kuroo had his phone out, thumb hovering over the ‘Play’ button. “Okay,” he whispered. “He should be coming in any minute now.”

“Okay!” Bokuto whispered back with a thumbs up.

Oikawa was glaring at the both of them like they were rowdy kids at a daycare and he was a very reluctant and moody babysitter. Bokuto saw Oikawa shoot Kenma a questioning glance, to which Kenma only shrugged, sat in an upright position now that Kuroo had left the couch.

There was the sound of the door closing shut and Kuroo pressed the ‘Play’ button. Immediately, the theme song for Jurassic Park started playing on full volume and both Bokuto and Kuroo started singing along to it, complete with obnoxiously too-loud and too-high-pitched noises.

Tsukishima appeared with a very unamused look on his face and Yamaguchi peered from behind him to see what was going on. Seeing what was going on wasn’t very informative for him, it seemed, because he still looked confused as his eyes darted from Bokuto to Kuroo and then back to Bokuto again. 

Tsukishima held up his third finger in response just as the song ended and Bokuto slapped a high five onto Kuroo’s hand as they dissolved into fits of bellowing laughter, clinging onto each other for support so they didn’t fall onto the floor in a literal puddle of giggles. 

Yamaguchi seemed to comprehend the situation after a while. “Oh! That was the Jurassic Park theme song, wasn’t it?”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima retorted dryly.

“Dinosaurs, huh?” Oikawa flicked his head slightly to get his fringe out of his eyes. “Interesting. Except you know they’re not real, right?”

Tsukishima’s head snapped around, actual anger flashing across his eyes. “What did you say?”

Oikawa shrugged nonchalantly, unfazed by the tall blonde’s eminent rage. “Just like how the Jurassic franchise isn’t real. It’s all a marketing gimmick. Too…” He waved his hand around as if he was explaining philosophy to a toddler. “…fictionalized.”

Tsukishima furrowed his eyebrows, body stiff. “Dinosaurs existed for 65 million years during the Mesozoic era. To completely ignore prehistoric ages as a part of the evolution of existence is just plain ignorant. Besides,” Tsukishima’s glare transformed into a patronizing look and he crossed his arms. “If there’s anything that _isn’t_ real, it’s aliens.”

Silence swept through the room as everyone instinctively drew in a collective breath.

Oikawa set his mug down on the coffee table with terrifying composure, eyes never leaving Tsukishima’s, a smile that couldn’t be described as anything other than evil spreading across his face. “What. Did you just say.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Bokuto felt himself tiptoe an inch backward from the detonation site. Kuroo followed suit.

Tsukishima wasn’t perturbed and returned Oikawa’s venomous stare before sneering, “I said, aliens aren’t real, Oikawa-san.”

Bokuto hurriedly returned to the kitchen while Kuroo leapt onto the couch and scooped Kenma up into an embrace as if he was protecting the smaller boy from the explosion that was bound to happen.

“Oh? So you mean to say the Roswell videos are _fake_?”

“They are called conspiracies for a reason.”

Bokuto was tackling the meat pieces now, cutting them in a sawing motion several times before they broke apart. Cooking didn’t seem so terrifying now compared to the scene outside. This boosted Bokuto’s morale somewhat. Something about if he could handle being in the same room as Oikawa and Tsukishima when they had a war about dinosaurs and aliens, he sure as hell could handle cooking an edible dish for Akaashi. 

The voices outside seemed to be increasing in volume and Bokuto sent a silent prayer to the gods above that they wouldn’t start fighting because then there wouldn’t be a dining table left for him to put his finished dish on.

“They caught the existence of aliens on film! That’s more than you can say for your completely un-existing dinosaurs!”

“That’s a very funny joke, Oikawa-san, but the last time I checked, museums all around the world are full of dinosaur fossils.”

“Why you little—“

“What the hell’s going on?” Iwaizumi’s voice appeared and Bokuto sighed internally. Thank god. If things went wrong, at least Iwaizumi was around to handle them and it wasn’t news to everyone that the only person who could handle Oikawa was Iwaizumi. 

Bokuto turned on the stove with one hand, the other searching for the bottle of oil — oh, there it was—

He had poured some oil into the pan before he realised that there was no pan and he had just poured oil onto bright blue flames. 

Fire started rearing up high to the ceiling and Bokuto shrieked, heart racing as he panicked to look for water, wait no not water, what was it they said to use instead of water? Sand? Where the _fuck_ was he supposed to get sand here?

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Iwaizumi roared, appearing at the doorway as Bokuto started throwing random things into the fire without thinking. “DUDE, GET OUT OF HERE!”

20 minutes later, the fire was finally gone, thanks to Iwaizumi who remembered where the fire extinguisher was stored at, while Bokuto scouted his wardrobe for clothes to throw at and cover therising fire after Iwaizumi shouted at him to do so. Everyone was in a frenzy, pulling out important stuff from their rooms, a coughing and eye-watering mess of frantic movements.  

Iwaizumi slumped onto the couch in exhaustion, arms and face covered in dark soot and Oikawa quite literally jumped onto his lap, his eyes glistening from more than just smoke. Under normal circumstances, Bokuto would probably side-eye the PDA they were showing but he was feeling pretty half-dead right then. Kuroo was holding Kenma in a tight grasp who was still coughing quietly, both of them exhausted from moving everyone’s stuff out to the hallway while Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were surrounded by empty pails that they had used to fill with water to splash onto fire remnants that had caught onto nearby furniture. 

The entire kitchen had burned down completely, a mass of blackened countertops and walls coated with a layer of white chemicals sprayed from the extinguisher and flying soot and — was that the sink fallen onto the ground?

The dining area suffered colossal damage as well, but only the partitioning walls separating it from the kitchen. Everything else —including the dining table— was intact, and thankfully so was Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s room. 

Bokuto took a deep inhale and then realised it was a bad idea when all he got was smoke in his lungs. He coughed violently, mind reeling from _what the fuck just happened_ and oh god, this was all his fault.

“Guys,” Bokuto’s voice was hoarse from yelling over the commotion. “I am sorry. I am so, so sorry.”

Kuroo reached over to pat his leg sympathetically as Bokuto squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head backward against the arm of the couch.

Not only did he not succeed in cooking anything for Akaashi, he also managed to burn down the whole kitchen. He was wrong. He couldn’t handle Oikawa and Tsukishima arguing about aliens and dinosaurs _and_ he couldn’t handle cooking for Akaashi.

The door to the unit chose that very moment to open, revealing an absolutely baffled Akaashi. 

“What’s that sme—“ He stopped in his tracks as he took in the sight before his eyes, blinking several times rapidly.

“Serious-kun,” Kuroo’s voice was gruff, mouth stretching into a grin. “Happy birthday.”

 

* * *

 

“So, that was what happened,” Bokuto hung his head in extreme shame as he recapped the day’s events to Akaashi, who was sat at the dining table across from him. 

It was already incredibly late by the time they reported to the authorities about the fire and cleared everything up. Most of the smoke was already gone through all the opened windows throughout the unit. Bokuto was left with half a wardrobe but he wasn’t exactly in the position of the fire instigator to complain. A sullen mood hung heavily in the air the whole day and Bokuto felt so shit, but there was nothing much he could do except allow everyone to calm down, himself included.

Bokuto thought he at least owed it to Akaashi to explain why a quarter of their floor had burned to ashes. So they went down to the convenience store to buy cup ramen and here they were, eating cup ramen dinner at 2AM in the slightly charred dining area. 

Akaashi slurped his noodles, taking in Bokuto’s words. His voice was soft when he said, “On the bright side, we’ll be gone for a few days for the New Year so that’s just enough time for them to repair everything before we get back.”

Bokuto raised his watery eyes to meet Akaashi’s. “You’re not angry?”

“I’m not. I’m more scared and worried than anything. I mean,” his gaze skittered downwards. “I’m just glad no one got hurt.”

Bokuto slammed his face onto the table top in exasperation. It smelled like burned wood. “All I wanted was to cook something for you for your birthday, Akaashi. I’m sorry.”

“It- It’s okay, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi fumbled over his words. “I, um, appreciate the sentiment.” He gestured at the burned down kitchen.

Bokuto groaned. 

“If I’d known you would burn down the kitchen trying to cook, I wouldn’t have teased you about it,” Akaashi managed to say in a gleeful tone. “How did you know it was my birthday, though?”

“I— Secret.”

Akaashi arched an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“No one is going to let me live this down.” Bokuto sighed.

“Nope.”

Bokuto raised his head slowly and wearily from his hard surface sanctuary and picked up his chopsticks to continue working on his ramen when he jumped in his seat, startling Akaashi.

“I forgot! I have something that might…” He rose from his seat and padded over to their room. “…save the day.”

He returned with a gift, wrapped in bright green wrapping paper with a bow on top. “I got a backup birthday present for you,” he smiled for the first time since the fire. “Not that I had predicted I would burn down the kitchen preparing your first gift and also I would’ve given it to you anyway.”

Akaashi’s eyes were wide, staring at the huge rectangular object placed on the table in front of him, unmoving. 

Bokuto’s eyes darted between Akaashi and the present. “Um, happy birthday, Akaashi?”

Bokuto could feel his fingers trembling as Akaashi reached for the gift and started peeling away the wrapping paper. His legs couldn’t stop shaking as he swallowed, hands suddenly too big and long that he didn’t know how or where to place them.

“My class exhibition was today, and my painting, um, got selected as top five,” Bokuto could feel cold sweat beading on his forehead. He was so _nervous_ , anxious at what Akaashi’s reaction might be. He kept envisioning a frown tugging at Akaashi’s lips, followed by a ‘What on earth is this, Bokuto-san’ in his disapproving voice and Bokuto felt cold all over. He batted the imagery away as he continued, “I thought it’s only befitting that I give it to you, since, y’know.” Akaashi had successfully unwrapped the painting and was staring at it, wide-eyed, lips slightly parted. Bokuto turned sideways slightly and cleared his throat. “The theme was ‘beauty’.”

After Bokuto’s painting got ruined in the rain, he was given a chance to rethink his subject choice. It was the night after their shopping trip during which Kenma got lost when it suddenly clicked in his head. So obvious. It was so obvious. That night, when Bokuto had felt those foreign emotions he’d never had before, and the bursting happiness in his chest when he looked at Akaashi, at his heavy-lidded eyes and pink lips against his pale skin in the cold, the erratic palpitation of his heart in his ribcage. He had never seen beauty of the sort before.

And when his finished painting was hung on the top five wall during the exhibition, and his classmates and other people all asked him who was it he had painted, he grinned widely and exclaimed proudly, “It’s my roommate, the most beautiful person in the world.”

Bokuto was trying to gauge what Akaashi might be thinking as his roommate gaped at the painting in his hands. Bokuto had painted Akaashi in the backdrop of the Shimokitazawa-like street, a faint glow of light around him because that was how Bokuto usually saw him. Now Bokuto was paranoid if Akaashi would suddenly stand up and punch him and call him a creep. First, he burned down the kitchen, then, he fucked up the second present—

“It’s,” Akaashi finally said. “Really beautiful. Thank you so much, Bokuto-san.”

And Bokuto could cry in relief because something right had finally happened that day and his smile mirrored that of Akaashi’s and once again, Bokuto felt that warm, buzzing feeling that he’d grown to love. He would willingly stay here, sat at this wooden table that smelled of burned wood, in this half-scorched room if it meant Akaashi would also be here with him.

Akaashi moved to tear off a strip of wrapping paper and grabbed a stray pen left lying around the table. He scribbled something on it quickly and handed it over to Bokuto.

A set of 11 digits were written on it in neat handwriting. “My number,” Akaashi murmured. “Just in case you wanted to buy pudding for me during the New Year.”

Bokuto held the strip of paper to his chest like it was the best present he’d ever gotten on someone else’s birthday, and truth be told, it was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was one of my favourite chapters to write because who doesn't love a little bit of chaos am i right
> 
> [tumblr](http://akaa-shi.tumblr.com) / [twitter](http://twitter.com/seawxxd)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stress relief therapy and "Subject: juice".

Bokuto returned to Toshima to visit his family for the New Year. His elder brother came back as well and they had a family reunion dinner of sorts after pulling out the kotatsu because it was still freezing cold at the beginning of January. His dad talked about business at the mechanic shop, his brother about his work at Ikebukuro and proudly flashed an engagement ring to which his mom started squealing in excitement and devising wedding plans, his sister about her latest volleyball match and Bokuto about how he managed to single-handedly burn down the dorm kitchen.

His piece of life update received shakes of the head from everyone except his sister, who bounced up and down happily demanding to know all the details and if anyone had died. Bokuto quickly denied that but was more than happy to recount the entire incident in extreme detail. His brother rolled his eyes but the the tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth indicated that he didn’t expect any less from his chaotic little brother.

Things were normal like they always had been whenever his family got together, and Bokuto felt comfortable and at ease spending time with them over mochi and sake.

Despite that, Bokuto couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something the entire time he was at home and it wasn’t until he was tucked in bed on the first night he was home did he realise that the gaping hole in his gut was due to the absence of a certain curly-haired person. 

He had been seeing and spending time with Akaashi everyday for the past four months that now it felt weird more than anything that he wasn’t around, wasn’t staying up with his books and sleeping in the bed next to his, nor occasionally preparing dinner in the pre-burned kitchen. Weird, because he hadn’t felt like this with Kiyoshi-san last year. 

His brain suddenly leapt back to the night of the fire, pulling up the scene of their 2AM cup ramen dinner and Akaashi’s phone number on the back of a strip of green wrapping paper.

Bokuto reached for his phone on the bedside table, the light from his phone screen momentarily blinding him in the pitch black darkness of his room.

**To: Akaashi  
** **From: Bokuto**  
**Subject: hi!!!!!!!!!  
** **hi akaashi!!!!! hw r u bck at home r u hvng fun**

 **To: Akaashi  
** **From: Bokuto**  
**Subject: hi hi  
****tis is bokuto btw!! :)**  

Bokuto wasn’t expecting a reply until the next morning considering it was 3:49AM but not a minute had passed when his phone buzzed.

**To: Bokuto  
** **From: Akaashi  
** **Subject: Re: hi!!!!!!!!!  
** **Hello, Bokuto-san. I’m fine at home. Things are as usual. How about you? Why are you still up so late?**

 **To: Akaashi  
** **From: Bokuto  
** **im gr8!! :D i hd a rly good dinner w my parents & bro & sis jst now altho idk i feel a bit weird being bck @ home it feels foreign??? im nt sure how 2 describe**

———

**btw akaashi say hi 2 ur dad 4 me :D**

———

**To: Bokuto  
** **From: Akaashi  
****I think I understand what you mean. Kind of like you’ve been pulled out of a familiar and easy routine and placed on a different planet.**  

———

**Okay…**

———

**yes!!!! thts exactly it!!!! ur rly good at words akaashi as expectd of a writer :D**

———

**Thank you, Bokuto-san, but I’m not one…**

———

**i meant tht as a trait plus i still thnk u shd choose 2 do wat u like & want 2 do  
** **LAW XX  
****WRITING ✓✓**  

———

**Thanks, Bokuto-san.**

———

**btw akaashi do u think theyll gv us new kitchen furniture aftr they repair it im thinkin mayb wat i did might nt be such a bad thng after all**

———

**I hope so. And sure, tell yourself that if that’s what makes you sleep better at night…**

———

**i got d email frm the mgmt 2day i hv 2 pay 70,000 yen T____T**

———

**No wonder you can’t sleep. Sorry to hear that.**

———

**hey akaashi law books r expensive rite???**

———

**Yeah. Why?**

———

**maybe ill sell them at campus 2 get d 70,000 yen**

———

**I will burn your side of the room and then sell your art supplies to pay the management back after that.**

———

**stop burning things!!!!!!!**

———

**That’s supposed to be my line, Bokuto-san.**

 

* * *

 

Bokuto sent selfies and photos of all his meals to Akaashi for the entire three days he was in Toshima, trying to coax Akaashi to do the same because “I haven’t seen you in so long I miss your face, Akaashi!” Akaashi replied that 72 hours weren’t _that_ long but in the end he sent a photo of himself in his room and Bokuto wasn’t sure if the breath caught in his throat was because of how huge Akaashi’s room was at home or how happy he was to see Akaashi’s face again.

Fortunately, Akaashi was right in saying that 72 hours wasn’t a long time because soon Bokuto was saying goodbye to his family and boarding the train back to Chiyoda. 

Akaashi was already in their room when Bokuto returned and Bokuto immediately went in for a bone-crushing hug, catching Akaashi completely offguard and all the younger boy could do was pat Bokuto’s back lightly in return while trying to breathe. 

Indeed, the kitchen had been repaired while they were away, furnished completely with new countertops and appliances. Instead of smoke, now the place stank of new paint and dust.

Everyone found out about Bokuto’s hefty fine and grimaced at the amount, something Bokuto could relate to very well. Oikawa even made it a point to yell loudly, “Thank you, Bokuto-kun!” everytime he stepped on the kitchen floor or used the sink or even touched the countertop. This annoyed Bokuto greatly and he threatened to accidentally on purpose set his room specifically on fire next.

“You wouldn’t dare burn Iwa-chan’s room,” Oikawa challenged.

“Oh, I’ll evacuate the place and leave you alone when he does the deed,” Iwaizumi nodded at Bokuto.

Oikawa’s face contorted in horror. “Iwa-chan!!” 

Apart from that, everything else started to fall back into routine rather quickly, to Bokuto’s delight. Classes went on as usual, Bokuto watched Masterchef with Akaashi sometimes, occasionally joined by Kuroo and Kenma, and Tsukishima and Oikawa still gave each other the stink-eye whenever they passed by each other, previous feud unforgotten.

But the start of a new year also meant exams were approaching, so there was a definite tense mood hanging in the air, in classes and even back at the dorms. However, the person who seemed to be on the worst receiving end of this stressful mood was Akaashi.

By the second month, Akaashi had somehow reverted back to spending all his time completely immersed in his books, eating biscuits for three meals a day and declining Bokuto’s invitations to go out or watch TV. His eye bags had gradually gotten darker and heavier, and the creases on his forehead seemed to be permanently etched onto his skin. Bokuto was aware that Akaashi fidgeted a lot in his seat and sometimes even when he was asleep, and he was quicker to agitate, slamming things with more force than usual.

Worried as Bokuto was getting, he understood this wasn’t completely uncalled for, knowing full well that exams could do scary things to one’s emotional being. Kuroo’s former roommate was generally a very nice and pleasant person, but Kuroo had recounted many stories of him being extremely bad-tempered and prickly whenever exams rolled around. It was a phase of life and he knew, more often than not, that the only permanent solution to a problem like this was allowing time to pass until the end of exams.

Still, this didn’t stop Bokuto from continuing to worry, eyes surreptitiously on a constant lookout for Akaashi.

One night, however, Bokuto was jolted awake by a sudden loud cry. He sat up quickly and it didn’t take him long to realise that the sound was Akaashi’s voice. Akaashi was sitting upright on his bed, both hands covering his face, his body trembling.

Bokuto went cold all over. “Akaashi?”

Akaashi froze, taking several deep breaths before turning around to face Bokuto. Bokuto’s breath hitched at the sight of Akaashi’s bloodshot eyes and the pained expression on his face. He wanted to wrap his arms around Akaashi and pat him lightly while murmuring that everything was okay.

But he was still frozen to the spot in shock and fear.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi’s voice was a scratchy whisper. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t worry about me, are you okay?!”

“Yeah,” Akaashi turned away and massaged his eyes, the quiver returning to his body. “I’m okay. I just had…a nightmare. Probably from all the stress or something.”

Bokuto realised his arm was still outstretched. “Akaashi…”

“I’m fine, really, Bokuto-san. Don’t worry,” he flashed Bokuto a quick smile before lying down, pulling his covers over him again. “Go to sleep, you have a morning class tomorrow."

Bokuto lowered his hand, a feeling of trepidation tight in his chest as he settled back down onto the mattress, eyes never leaving Akaashi’s silhouette. Finally, he said gently, “You can talk to me about anything if you want, Akaashi.”

And then in a softer whisper came Akaashi’s reply, “Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

 

* * *

 

Bokuto endured several more nights of being hyperaware of Akaashi thrashing about in his sleep, although none of it was as bad as hearing Akaashi’s scream in the middle of the night. Akaashi’s fidgets increased in frequency and intensity, and he could hear the shifting of his sheets as he tossed and turned back and forth. Akaashi’s restlessness also injected uneasiness into Bokuto’s sleep, but he would never tell Akaashi that, positive that that would only make Akaashi feel worse.

So when Bokuto saw Akaashi tensed up at his desk with his head wedged between his thumb and fingers in frustration, books splayed open in front of him, he decided to help Akaashi de-stress the only way he knew how.

“Akaashi, get your coat. We’re going clubbing.”

Akaashi looked up at Bokuto as if he’d just suggested they went bungee jumping —which, actually, wasn’t too bad an idea, either— but Bokuto was having none of that. He pointed out that Akaashi had been disturbingly stressed out for the past month or so and Akaashi needed this, because Bokuto didn’t want to have a living zombie as a roommate. In the end, Akaashi gave in, because obviously he had a point, and Bokuto was being even more persistent than usual. He even allowed Akaashi to bring along one book as a safety net if he wanted to.

Outside FERIA TOKYO, the first words that came out of Akaashi’s mouth were, “You know, the last time we were both here, you vomited all over my pants while I was semi-naked.”

Bokuto wasn’t expecting that at all, face turning slightly red as he laughed. “Started from the bottom, now we’re here, huh?”

Akaashi gave a small smile.

“Hmm, now that I think about it, why were you here that night? I didn’t think you would go clubbing by yourself.”

“I wasn’t clubbing. I was on the way back home from university after getting some documents sorted out and then I suddenly had to…” Akaashi looked bashful. “…urgently do a number two.”

“Ahhh,” Bokuto nodded in comprehension. “And then I met you.”

“And then you met me." 

The place was packed as it would be on a Friday night and Bokuto led Akaashi to the bar where Bokuto ordered a margarita and Akaashi a gin and tonic. Bokuto lifted an eyebrow and Akaashi shrugged. “I drank this quite often in the States.”

Akaashi was pretty quiet after that, observing the bartender and the patrons as he sipped on his drink, and Bokuto was definitely right in thinking that this wasn’t Akaashi’s kind of scene. Still, it seemed to have succeeded in getting him out of the dorms and away from his books for a while at least, the wrinkles between his eyebrows smoothened out temporarily and his rigid shoulders relaxed. Bokuto got him to play a game of choosing a bunch of people in the club and making up backstories or scenarios for them in case Akaashi started brooding. 

They were weaving the tale of ‘Renji’ and ‘Chiyo’ —“who are neighbours and one day Renji’s dog ran over to Chiyo’s house and refused to leave so Renji apologised and asked her out for a drink as a token of apology” “And now Chiyo is saying he’s forgiven only if he invites her over to play with his dog every once in a while”— when a black-haired guy with a crew cut strolled up to Akaashi and offered to buy him a drink. Bokuto’s instincts kicked in and he stood up suddenly, immediately wondering why he just did what he did. Both Akaashi and the guy were startled at his knee-jerk reaction, and the guy, upon seeing who Akaashi’s companion was, started to back away instantaneously. Bokuto couldn’t help but feel triumphant.

Akaashi’s expression was inscrutable. “You could’ve just let him buy me a drink.”

A flustered look crept onto Bokuto’s face at the realisation of what his actions could be interpreted as. “I— I didn’t know— I didn’t mean to— I mean,” he fake-coughed. “Some people here are rather dangerous, Akaashi.” He quickly brought his glass to his lips to prevent himself from blabbering any further.

Akaashi looked amused. “It seems like you have experience fending off these dangerous unwanted guests…”

“Um,” Bokuto rubbed the back of his head, secretly glad and relieved at Akaashi’s usage of the term ‘unwanted guest’. “Kind of? Kuroo and I come here a lot, so we’re used to…that kind of thing.”

Akaashi nodded as his fingers spun his glass around slowly. “And do you get any…’wanted’ guests?”

Bokuto bit his thumbnail. What was this weird guilt feeling that was starting to churn in his gut? He shrugged to feign nonchalance. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

Akaashi stared at his glass for a while before bringing it to his lips and swallowed all of it in one go, setting the empty glass down on the bartop. Bokuto looked at him, stunned, as he ordered another one.

In the blink of an eye, there were about seven empty glasses littered on the bartop in front of Akaashi and Bokuto didn’t miss the fact that Akaashi was losing his posture, his cheeks flushed and his eyes darting around wildly. He went from being completely silent to grabbing Bokuto’s shirt to talk in his face.

“I feel much better now!” He didn’t bother to lower his voice even though his face was mere millimetres from Bokuto’s. Bokuto could smell the gin on his breath, frozen in place from the sudden proximity. “Thank you, Bokuto-san!”

He ordered another gin before Bokuto could stop him.

“Akaashi, slow down—“

“Y’know what? Fuck this! Fuck my father!” Akaashi shouted suddenly and no few heads turned around to stare, the bartender included. “Fuck studying law and all that…fucking shit!”

If Bokuto had wondered what kind of drunk Akaashi was, he could stop wondering now.

“Everything I’ve been doing was for him anyway,” he hiccuped, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. “I could die trying to become what he wanted me to be and he’ll probably still ‘Akaashi name this’, ‘Akaashi name that’!”

People were definitely staring now. Bokuto inched closer. “Akaashi? Akaashi, are you oka—“

“No!” He whipped around furiously, hand slamming the bartop. The bartender winced. He stared into Bokuto’s eyes for a few seconds before saying, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you, Bokuto-san,” he reached out to pat Bokuto’s shoulder and found his face instead. “I…fuckinghateeverything. But not you.” One of Akaashi’s fingers found its way into Bokuto’s left nostril. “Not you.” 

“Ooh, rough night?” The redheaded girl sat next to Bokuto looked at Akaashi and then at him pitiably. 

“Yeah. Excuse me,” he swung Akaashi’s left arm over his shoulder and hauled him off the barstool. Akaashi’s limbs had all gone limp but Bokuto managed to coax him enough to get him to stand on his feet, at least. Akaashi was mumbling something about ‘International Constitutional Law states that horses can’t fucking sit down’ as Bokuto dragged him out of the club and onto the streets.

“Um, Akaashi? Can you walk?”

“Huh?” Akaashi tipped his head up, eyes half-closed. “Yeaaaaaaah, suuuuureeeee…”

“No, you can’t,” Bokuto whispered under his breath, and then louder to Akaashi, “I’m going to call a cab, okay?”

It was when Bokuto started to dig for his phone in his pocket that Akaashi puked all over him.

 

* * *

 

Bokuto woke up relatively early the next morning and decided to do both his and Akaashi’s laundry because there was no way Akaashi would be up for that today. After getting back last night, Bokuto managed to get Akaashi into his pajamas —it was all very quick and Bokuto painfully averted his gaze the entire time— putting both their vomit-stained clothing into a separate bag. 

That night was the quietest sleep Akaashi had in a while, at least.

Akaashi didn’t stir until around two in the afternoon, and his curls were stuck up in all angles when he woke up with a moan.

“Oh god,” he hid his face in his hands and Bokuto could imagine how he felt, having more than his fair share of disastrous hangover experiences. That’s why he had the blinds shut and only the desk lamp turned on. Even that didn’t help much, he knew.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto turned to face his roommate. “How are you feeling?”

“Like hell.”

“Yup, that should be right.” He held out a bottle of water towards Akaashi. “Drink lots of water. It helps.”

“Thanks,” he accepted it graciously, right hand massaging the bridge of his nose. “I need to shower.”

“That too.”

Akaashi’s movements were languid as he peeled back his blanket and steadied himself on his two feet before standing up. Halfway across the room, he halted in his tracks.

“Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god oh god,” he buried his face in his hands.

“Akaashi? What’s wrong? What happened?”

Akaashi lowered his hands slowly and turned around to face Bokuto, horror written clearly on his face. “I puked on you last night.”

After a reassuring “Well, we’re even now! And at least I wasn’t half-naked!” on Bokuto’s part, Akaashi left and returned a few minutes later, flopping onto his bed.

“You should probably also eat something,” Bokuto held out a tupperware containing eggs and bacon. Of course, he hadn’t cooked it himself, but Kuroo offered to when he heard about his drunk roommate. Eggs and bacon were like a hangover tradition for Bokuto and Kuroo. 

“I don’t want to,” Akaashi griped but reached for it anyway, chewing it slowly and quietly. He looked up and saw Bokuto staring at him. “What?”

Bokuto wasn’t even aware he had been boring holes into Akaashi’s face. “Ah, nothing. You’re beautiful.”

These words came tumbling out of Bokuto’s mouth effortlessly and shamelessly everytime, and everytime Akaashi’s face never failed to turn red, no matter how many times he had heard them. This time was no exception.

“I have a hangover and I just woke up at 2PM, wearing pajamas and eating breakfast food in bed,” Akaashi muttered. “Still think I’m beautiful?”

“Yes,” Bokuto didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I do.”

 

* * *

 

Akaashi went back to sleep after that and Bokuto seized the opportunity to get some work done. It wasn’t until it was almost dinnertime and Bokuto moved to wake Akaashi up did he realise that he could _feel_ heat rolling off his roommate’s body.  

“Akaashi,” he nudged Akaashi and withdrew his hand in shock. Akaashi’s skin felt _burning hot_. He placed a palm on his forehead, hot and clammy with sweat. “Akaashi,” he tried again. “Akaashi, wake up. You’re hot.”

Akaashi rolled over, face scrunched up in discomfort. “You keep saying that, Bokuto-san.”

“No, I mean you have a fever. Are you feeling okay?” He knew, as soon as the words left his mouth, what a stupid question it was. Akaashi’s complexion had taken on a sickly pallor, and it looked like he could use a shower or two.

“Am I dying?” Akaashi’s voice was gravelly and broke at the end.

“No, you’re not.”  


“I feel like I’m dying.”

“You’re quite the drama queen when you’re hangover and ill,” Bokuto chuckled.

“Mhm,” Akaashi closed his eyes. “I like the sound of you laughing.”

Bokuto blushed. “I, um, I do, too. Your laughing, I mean. I like the way you laugh. Too. Um,” he cleared his throat. “I’m going to the convenience store to get some medicine for you, alright? And take-away porridge for you to eat. Do you want anything else? Or do you want to go to the clinic?”

Akaashi frowned as he tried to process the word dump Bokuto had released in one go. “No. No clinic. I’ll be fine. Just some paracetamol. Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

“Of course,” Bokuto held up a thumbs-up and left the room.

As he was queuing to buy porridge, his phone vibrated to indicate a new text.

**To: Bokuto  
** **From: Kuroo**  
**Subject: juice  
** **hey dude, just read online that juice helps hangovers. why didn’t we ever try that? anyway. in case serious-kun is still feeling shit.**

Bokuto smiled and typed back a quick ‘tq ppreciate it bro’ and grabbed a bottle of orange juice on the way back.

Bokuto managed to persuade Akaashi to finish half of the porridge and juice before downing two pills. Bokuto thought Akaashi would roll over and go back to sleep after that. Instead, Akaashi took off his shirt.

Bokuto almost tripped over his own feet as Akaashi deadpanned, “I can’t stand up to go to the shower. Can you give me a sponge bath.”

“Oh. Okay,” was all Bokuto could say before he padded off to find a clean washcloth and a pail to fill with water, his face blank but his insides screaming internally the entire time. They weren’t even screaming distinguishable words, just disbelieving sounds like ‘Hhhhhhh?? Nghhhh??’ because Bokuto’s heart was beating too fast at the image of Akaashi taking his shirt off.

When he came back, Akaashi had dozed off leaning against the wall. Bokuto dragged his chair next to Akaashi’s bed, waking him up. “Are you sure…” Bokuto hesitated, shooting him an uncertain look.

“Yes. I don’t mind you looking at me like this,” Akaashi said bluntly and Bokuto turned so red smoke could be coming out of his ears for all he knew. Hungover and deliriously sick Akaashi was something Bokuto had never expected to see before. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it because this time, it was Akaashi who was boring holes into his head.

Akaashi scooted closer to Bokuto and his eyes fluttered shut in relief as the cold damp cloth made contact with his searingly hot skin. Bokuto’s hands were gentle and tender, rubbing soothing circles onto Akaashi’s back to bring his temperature down. His eyes couldn’t help but admirably follow the contour of his back muscles, pale skin smooth under Bokuto’s touch, making Bokuto’s breath hitch in his throat. 

He proceeded to massage both of his arms down to his fingertips. Akaashi’s hands were so soft and slender, shaped by thin phalange bones that knotted at the joints of his knuckles. They were the hands Bokuto had looked at multiple times, wondering how they would feel intertwined with his own fingers. They looked paler than usual, making the blue veins seem more prominent. His nails were perfect and well taken care of, save for his thumbs that showed years of habitual nail-biting.

Bokuto took a steadying breath when Akaashi turned around to face him, and he wanted to ask Akaashi yet again if this was okay, but his eyes were closed and there was a serene look on his face that Bokuto was reluctant to disturb. Bokuto’s hands shook slightly as he placed them on his chest, which wasn’t as sturdy as Bokuto was built but still athletic from years of playing volleyball. He inhaled sharply when he caught sight of Akaashi’s collarbones, his other hand reaching out of its own accord to stroke them reverently.

He realised what he was doing and pulled his hand back violently, face turning red as he sputtered out an apology. But when he looked up, Akaashi was staring at him with an intense look in his eyes.

The next thing Bokuto knew, warm lips were pressed against his and Bokuto leaned into it instinctively, dropping the washcloth onto the floor as he hands came up to cup Akaashi’s face. His mind was racing as his tongue slid across Akaashi’s lower lip which was chapped and fiery hot from the fever and he heard Akaashi’s breathing quickened, breath warm against his own. Akaashi slid his hands into Bokuto’s hair which was down for the night and it felt good, so good—

Bokuto pulled away suddenly, breath coming in short gasps as his mind reeled from what had just happened. Akaashi looked equally flustered, eyes wide and lips parted.

“Bokuto-san…”  


“It’s nothing, isn’t it?” Bokuto’s laugh sounded too forced even to his own ears. “You’re delirious from being ill. You don’t know what you’re doing.” He placed a hand on Akaashi’s forehead and quickly withdrew it. “Your fever’s very high, you should sleep, Akaashi.”

Akaashi looked dazed, head tilted slightly to the side. “Okay, Bokuto-san. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Akaashi pulled his shirt on and laid down, breathing evening out in mere seconds.

Meanwhile, Bokuto was on the edge of having a nervous breakdown. 

He rubbed his face with both his hands, coming to the realisation that his entire body was trembling. He walked over to the door and practically sprinted to the bathroom where he splashed his face with cold water, his breaths coming out in huge huffs. 

“Are you okay?” Someone was speaking next to him but it sounded distant. Bokuto lifted his head to see Tsukishima who was brushing his teeth, giving him a weird stare. He barely heard himself croak out a “Yeah, fine” as he left, heading for his room.

At the sight of Akaashi sleeping peacefully in his bed, Bokuto’s heart rate picked up again. No. He couldn’t do this right now. Being in the same room as Akaashi felt suffocating. He had to leave. Not in here.

In the end, he resorted to crashing on the couch for the night. He allowed himself the security of knowing he wasn’t in the same room as Akaashi before he finally braved himself to face what had just happened.

Bokuto loved kissing and he was rather good at it, having been pretty experienced in that department, which should mean that one little kiss like this shouldn’t be a bother to him. So why was he freaking out?

What a rhetorical question. Of course he was freaking out. Because it was Akaashi. Sweet, beautiful Akaashi whom Bokuto had gotten to know really well for the past semester. Whom he’d been attracted to at first sight but gradually realised that wasn’t all there was to it. What else was there to it? Kuroo’s crude words asking if he wanted to fuck Akaashi came back to him in one go. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attracted to him that way, it was just he was perhaps also attracted to him in a different way, a stronger way that he’d never felt before…

So why was he the one who pulled away? His fingers came up to touch his lips, feeling the phantom of Akaashi’s lips against his, how tender they were yet they’d moved against his urgently, fueled by desire. 

Bokuto turned so he was facing the back of the couch. It was because Akaashi wasn’t…Akaashi. He was sick. He wasn’t in his right frame of mind, and Bokuto didn’t want that. He felt it would be wrong to be kissing Akaashi when he was weak with a high temperature and the residues of a hangover. He didn’t think Akaashi would even remember the day’s events tomorrow, judging by the state of feverishness he was in.

And yet…

Bokuto’s entire being ached with want. Because despite him stopping the kiss, despite him justifying it and losing his composure because he had never felt these strong emotions surging through his veins accompanied with this desire before, he wanted Akaashi, wanted to touch him and breathe in his scent and kiss him and find out what kind of sounds he would make if Bokuto bit down on his lip.

That he could admit. 

But he knew, first and foremost, what was most important in this was Akaashi’s feelings about it. And suddenly he was afraid, afraid that when he woke up the next day and Akaashi returned to his normal self and remembered everything that had happened, he would be repulsed by the idea and be repulsed by _him_ and that was something Bokuto absolutely could not handle.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://akaa-shi.tumblr.com) / [twitter](http://twitter.com/seawxxd)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cherry blossoms blooming and screams in the night.

Someone was nudging him gently at the elbow and Bokuto wanted to slap it away, moody because it felt like he’d barely slept at all. The entire night was spent drifting in and out of consciousness, the images and sounds too obnoxiously loud in his head, disappearing as soon as he opened his eyes and tried to get a grip on a world that wasn’t spinning. And then he’d close his eyes and the same thing would happen again.

Why was someone waking him up anyway? Why would anyone barge into his room to wake him up? Unless that someone was Akaashi…

His eyes sprang open, but the face hovering above his didn’t belong to his roommate. Instead, it was a freckled face with a pair of orb-like eyes that were staring down at him in concern.

“Ah, Bokuto-san!” Yamaguchi recoiled a little timidly upon his waking up. “Um, are you alright? I saw you sleeping on the couch and I wasn’t sure whether to wake you up since it’s already 12 noon…" 

Bokuto sat up groggily and surveyed his sleeping quarters. Couch. Right. He had deliberately chosen to sleep outside that night because…

Bokuto grunted a thanks to the freckled boy and padded back to his room, still in a disgruntled and cantankerous state. 

Akaashi was still fast asleep, although his complexion looked way better than it had the previous day. He touched his forehead gently to find that his fever had broken, and colour had returned to his pallid cheeks. Bokuto let out a sigh of relief, even though just looking at him like that, curls fanned out on his pillow and fingers curled up against him chest, sent pangs through his heart. He felt the stabbing pain like an unsolved equation, something cryptic and incomprehensible.

He needed a change of scenery for a while.

Bokuto placed a refilled bottle of water next to Akaashi’s bed and stuck a post-it note reminding him to take his medicine onto it before leaving.

Outside, he inhaled the chill air deeply, grateful for the spacious outdoors and good weather. It was approaching spring, and a lone cherry blossom tree in the park directly opposite Izumi House was starting to bloom. More and more people were choosing to spend their time in the open-air, lounging around the park and sitting under trees.

Bokuto looked at the picturesque scene wistfully, his feet bringing him to the Starbucks joint next to the park. He ordered a matcha frappuccino —which, funnily, had become his favourite drink after Akaashi got it for him the first time— and took a seat at one of the tables outside the coffee shop, adjacent to the park.

His mind was still in turmoil, and he was sure he was shooting glares at everyone who passed by involuntarily, but at least it felt like he could breathe again. He decided maybe he should try and talk it out with someone, and hopefully things would make more sense to him.

He typed a quick text to Kuroo asking him to join him at Starbucks. There was no reply but three minutes later, a flustered Kuroo settled down into the seat opposite him, twitching and jittery, looking unhinged. 

“Hey,” Kuroo barely glanced at Bokuto before launching into a full-blown ramble in a panicking voice, stammering and floundering over his words as he tried to explain what had happened.

“Kenma’s been ignoring me for the past two days,” Kuroo wrung his hands in agitation. “I think it’s probably because I accidentally spilled juice on his books and now he won’t even look at me.”

Bokuto was trying really hard to focus on his friend’s rants, he really was, but his head was still pounding and Kuroo wasn’t even giving him any chance to interject and _he_ was the one who had asked Kuroo to come because _he_ was the one who was close to tipping over the edge but now he had to hear his friend talk his ear off about boyfriend problems?

“Look,” he banged his hand on the table in exasperation to interrupt Kuroo, eyebrows puckering into a glower. “Why don’t you just ask him yourself? Instead of coming to me whining like an infant.”

Kuroo paused, as if he was shaken out of a daze. Bokuto’s words stung like a thorn in his own throat but he was too proud to rescind them, watching clarity flicker across his friend’s previously perturbed eyes.

Kuroo’s gaze fastened on Bokuto’s, slackening somewhat. “Wait. You’re being weird. What’s up?”

Bokuto crossed his arms and looked away, indignant. “Thanks for noticing, Kuroo.”

“Hey,” Kuroo stretched out a hand, eyes softening. “C’mon, I’m sorry. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“No, it’s fine. Actually you know what, just continue grumbling and I’ll continue to listen like I’m obliged to, as always.” There was just something very therapeutic and releasing about deliberately being as snarky and spiteful as possible to elicit a response from the other party.

Kuroo’s eye twitched in annoyance, but his voice was collected when he said, “Okay, I know you don’t mean what you just said because you’re getting into one of your moods again.”

This flared Bokuto up more than was warranted. He rose to his feet, injecting as much venomous rage as he could into his voice as he leered at Kuroo, “I _am_ in one of my fucking moods! But that doesn’t mean I don’t mean it!”

Kuroo stood up too, lips curling into a scowl. “It’s about time you grow up, Bokuto. I can’t deal with you right now.” He spun around on his heel and stormed away, shoulders rigidly tense.

Bokuto wasn’t happy about not having the last word. “I can’t deal with your incessant whining either!” He bellowed after Kuroo’s back. “And your stupid bedhair!” He threw that in for good measure.

Kuroo held up two third fingers over his head.

Bokuto slumped into his chair and regretted all his actions immediately. He buried his face in his hands, feeling shittier than ever because of course he wasn’t angry at Kuroo. He was primarily angry at himself and the only way he knew how to deal with that was to take it out on the person nearest to him, which happened to be Kuroo, who unfortunately also had huge concerns on his mind.

And now he’d done it. Not only was he not any closer to sorting out his feelings for Akaashi, he had also managed to get into a fight with his best friend. Great. Perfect. 

“I don’t deserve to live anymore,” he whispered to no one in particular.

 

* * *

 

Bokuto spent the rest of the day wandering around campus, then when he got bored, the little streets bordering Meiji University, steering clear of the dorms. 

Akaashi called him once, when Bokuto was walking along Otahime aimlessly.

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi sounded like he’d regained his senses, and Bokuto thought he’d heard a hint of worry in his voice. “Where are you?" 

“I’m around campus,” Bokuto admitted truthfully. “I just…need space to clear my head, is all.”

“Okay,” Akaashi didn’t sound particularly convinced, but he didn’t question him further. “Probably also so you don’t get whatever I’m having right now.”

“No, that’s not it,” Bokuto denied, then quickly added, “How are you feeling? Are you feeling better?”

“Yes. My fever broke. Thank you, Bokuto-san.” There was a pause, and then, “I’m going back to sleep after this. Hopefully, I’ll be fully well by tomorrow.”

“Yeah…” Bokuto agreed. “That’s a good idea. Do you…want me to buy you dinner?” He offered, even though he didn’t really want to return to the dorms.

“No, it’s okay. You just do what you have to do.” A pause. “Will you be coming back tonight?”

Bokuto froze at the question he had imposed. Of course Bokuto’s acting strangely hadn’t been lost on Akaashi, who was perceptive as ever. Of course he suspected something serious had occurred to warrant a question like that. What Bokuto didn’t know was whether Akaashi had any inkling that it had to do with him.

“I don’t know.”

Both ends were silent for a period of time which was highly unusual, because Bokuto always seized the chance to fill in the noiselessness. But this time, Bokuto was at a loss for words.

Akaashi was the first to speak up. “Okay, I’ll see you, Bokuto-san.” The ghost of a ‘later’ tacked onto that drifting like an unspoken taboo between them.

“Okay.”

Bokuto clicked ‘End Call’ and proceeded to slump against a lamp post on the sidewalk, ignoring the weird stares people were throwing his way. 

Did Akaashi remember what had happened last night? Was he angry? Was he regretful? It was hard to gauge how he might be feeling merely by hearing his voice through the phone, and Akaashi had never been vocally expressive anyway. 

Maybe he was giving him space to internalize it so they could both pretend that nothing had happened and carry on normally as always.

The thought appealed to yet frightened Bokuto simultaneously. While that would definitely guarantee that he didn’t have to face his feelings again, he wasn’t sure if he wanted that, if that was even the right thing to do. Akaashi wasn’t some random person he’d picked up at the bar and followed them back only to forget they’d ever existed the next day when he tiptoed out of their flat. No, Akaashi was so important to him.

Which was why Bokuto couldn’t afford to dump all his insecurities and doubts on him. He couldn’t look at Akaashi with all these foreign emotions bubbling vehemently within him and pretend they were nothing.

The only way he had ever known attraction was by touch, skin against skin, sometimes cold but mostly hot, and it was _there_ , visibly in front of him, something he knew and was sure about. He knew it like the familiar sensation of digging his nails into someone’s back, or smacking his mouth against another, tongues sliding across each other, but even then, last night’s kiss with Akaashi was wholly different, completely in a different league that Bokuto wasn’t even certain he was worthy of.

That was why after finally standing up from his spot by the street, he allowed his legs to lead him to the club, where he locked lips with the first guy that approached him —he didn’t even get a good look at him, was just relieved that he would have company for the night— and followed him home. 

Bokuto didn’t even know where he was taken back to, and if this were a crime movie, he would’ve been brought to a dark alley and slaughtered and that would be the end of him due to his little to no vigilance, but it wasn’t, so when he crawled onto the stranger's bed, all of Bokuto’s senses were filled with this guy’s cologne scent and their hands moving across bare hips and knotting in each other’s hair to loud moans of pleasure. 

Bokuto didn’t even realise he’d let slip a name until the guy asked who it was, and Bokuto’s eyes flew open, registering that the face below his didn’t match the one he had had in mind all along. His heart plummeted, and his gut turned into a cement mixer, churning endlessly. His mood darkened and he averted his gaze, looking everywhere but at his face.

“Who’s Akaashi?” The guy repeated.

Bokuto slammed his lips against the other guy’s dry, chapped ones, trying not to recall how good Akaashi’s lips had felt moving against his own, because this definitely wasn’t Akaashi and his heart was aching. “No one,” he growled in a voice that didn’t even sound like his own.

 

* * *

 

Bokuto did the walk of shame back to the dorms early next morning, his hair protruding in all directions a flashing sign telling everyone that passed by that he had caught bait last night, but he didn’t particularly feel like it was something to brag about.

As always, Akaashi was asleep, and Bokuto noticed that his own desk had been cleaned, books and art supplies stacked neatly in a pile at a side. Despite everything, his eyes came to rest on Akaashi affectionately, and Bokuto felt a smile grace his lips, something that hadn’t happened in a while now. 

_I’m fucked_ , was the last thing Bokuto told himself before he left for class, echoing the first thought he had had when Akaashi turned up at his door six months ago.

 

* * *

 

Bokuto came back to an empty room. He hadn’t talked to Akaashi face-to-face in almost two days and this sudden alteration in their routine felt so peculiar to him, but honestly, he only had himself to blame. 

Besides, he wasn’t sure what he might or might not say if he came face-to-face with Akaashi. Like, _Say, Akaashi, do you remember that you kissed me two nights ago and I kinda flipped out after that? Also I keep feeling these weird things around you, do you maybe know what’s up with that too?_

Right on cue, the door chose that moment to open and Akaashi walked in, momentarily surprised to see Bokuto. He looked a lot better than his sick self, but he still looked worn out and the bags under his eyes were darker than ever. Bokuto had the sudden urge to kiss them away and had to dig his nails into his palms as a silent reprimand to himself.

Akaashi’s shoulders almost visibly sagged in relief. “Bokuto-san,” he greeted with a smile. “Hi.”

Bokuto couldn’t resist the urge to smile back. “Hey hey, Akaashi.”

“How…are you?”

“I’m okay. How about you? Have you recovered?”

“Yes,” Akaashi padded across the room and settled onto his bed under the window. “I have.”

Despite the genuine smiles on both their faces, the atmosphere had never felt so strained and taut before. It felt like they were carefully teetering at the edge of a precipice, too afraid to put a leg out too far in case everything started crumbling down.

There was an awkward silence as Akaashi looked at his fingernails with excessive interest and Bokuto straightened his pillow for the umpteenth time.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi was the first to break the fragile silence. Bokuto was taken aback by the timidness in his voice. “Did I…do something?” 

_Shit shit shit shit_ — went Bokuto’s inner monologue because _shit_ , Akaashi looked _guilty_ as if Bokuto behaving weirdly was his fault and _shit_ , it wasn’t, it really wasn’t—

“No!” Bokuto exclaimed, crossing the room to climb onto Akaashi’s bed. He sat next to him, legs slightly touching. Bokuto’s heart picked up speed involuntarily at their propinquity. “It’s not you. I’m sorry, Akaashi. This isn’t your fault.”

Akaashi continued staring at his toes. “But…did something happen? I was afraid I might have done something to piss you off when I was ill, because you seem a bit down lately and I don’t remember a thing.”

Bokuto’s eyes widened. “You don’t remember?”

“No,” Akaashi lifted his head to look at him. “So something did happen, then?”

Bokuto swallowed. “No. Well, yes. But…it’s nothing.” He inhaled and let out a ragged breath. Part of him felt relieved that Akaashi remembered nothing, while the other part of him felt like he’d lost a battle, maybe secretly hoping that Akaashi would coerce him into facing his emotions and fears that he was trying to block out.

Akaashi’s eyes lingered on his face for moment, before he broke into a tiny but sad smile. “You can talk to me about anything if you want, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto smiled at the recycling of his own words, just as someone knocked on the door.

He went to open it. It was Kenma.

“Hey, Kenma!” Bokuto greeted amiably, eyes darting around for Kuroo as an automatic reflex before he remembered the quarrel they had had.“What’s up?” He opened the door wider to allow the younger boy to enter. Kenma walked in quietly and sank down into one of the chairs.

“Kenma,” Akaashi smiled. “How are you? Where’s Kuroo-san?”

Kenma’s eyes were focused on Bokuto and Bokuto felt his face turn hot with guilt.

“He’s moping in the room,” Kenma said bluntly, sighing in frustration. His expression was phlegmatic as always, but there was a hint of concern noticeable in his eyes. “Koutarou, Kuro’s an idiot, but this time he’s being a grumpy idiot and it’s very troublesome.”

Akaashi shot Bokuto a pointed look. “Um,” he scratched the back of his neck self-consciously and then heaved a sigh. “We had a fight. It’s…really stupid.”

Kenma nodded curtly in agreement. Akaashi looked genuinely shocked.

Bokuto sighed again. “I was in a bad mood and so was he and then we just started yelling,” he pursed his lips. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Please talk to him. Our room’s seen enough of sulking to last the whole year,” Kenma’s eyes were downcast and he added in a smaller voice, “And I don’t like seeing him like this.”

Bokuto’s guilt levels were skyrocketing through the roofs today. “I will but,” he bit his thumb nervously. “I feel like we’re both too egotistically proud to approach each other.”

“Damn right,” Kenma and Akaashi both said at the same time. They blinked at each other in surprise and exchanged knowing looks.

Just as Kenma turned to leave, Bokuto called out, “Ah, by the way, Kenma! Kuroo told me he was worried about you ignoring him…”

Kenma blew his hair out of his eyes exasperatedly. “I lost my entire Love Live game progress and didn’t feel like talking to anyone,” he grimaced, recalling the unpleasant memory. “I was in hibernating grief mode. It wasn’t even about him. He truly is an idiot.”

 

* * *

 

Things were still irregularly quiet between the two of them but Bokuto tried to behave as normal as possible for Akaashi’s sake. He knew he wasn’t fooling anyone, since his heart was on his sleeve all the time, but Akaashi wasn’t pushing him to talk and Bokuto was grateful.

Of course, Bokuto was still confused as hell and he caught himself staring at Akaashi longer than was necessary too many times, finding himself wanting to hold his hand or tuck a stray curl behind his hear or nuzzle his head onto Akaashi’s shoulder.

He shook himself and deliberately turned around so his back was to Akaashi.

However, all his worries were tossed out the metaphorical window when he heard a bloodcurdling scream shoot through the night air.

Bokuto’s heart was pounding hard in his chest, blood rushing through his ears as he leapt up, worried that he couldn’t get to Akaashi’s bed in time. The shriek felt like a physical wound that was gaping open, the colour draining from Bokuto’s face almost instantly. 

“Akaashi!” Bokuto’s chest felt tight like he couldn’t breathe, but Akaashi was in front of him and Bokuto wrapped his arms around him protectively, murmuring “It’s alright, everything is alright, I’m here, it’s alright” to calm Akaashi down. Akaashi’s heart was beating so fast even Bokuto could feel it against his palms rubbing soothing circular motions on his back, his body shaking with long, racking sobs that made Bokuto’s own heart throb in pain. 

Bokuto was terrified out of his mind, but the only thing he could do for Akaashi at that moment was to remain in that consoling position until Akaashi calmed down. At one point, Kenma even came over to peek and ask if everything was alright, and Bokuto could only give a nod as he held Akaashi, patting his soft hair gently. 

Finally, the grip on Bokuto's arms and torso loosened and Akaashi’s body was no longer trembling. Akaashi pulled back slowly, sniffing, hands wiping away at the tears and snot smeared on his face.

“Is there ever a time when you _don’t_ look pretty?” Bokuto said softly, smiling.

Akaashi snorted and reached for a tissue paper. “Ha-ha, good joke, Bokuto-san.”

“It’s wasn’t a joke, Akaashi!”

They sat in silence for a while as Akaashi cleaned up and regained his composure. Bokuto was still scared, the frightful shriek still ringing in his ears like his own nightmare, but he didn’t make to get up, a reassuring presence should Akaashi require one.

Akaashi laughed suddenly and without mirth. “I’m so sorry, Bokuto-san,” he pointed at the tear stains on his shirt. “I even made your shirt wet.”

Bokuto waved his comment away. “It’s nothing you have to worry about. More importantly, are you okay?”

Akaashi’s eyes skittered away he chewed on his bottom lip. “I had another nightmare. A really bad one this time.”

Bokuto pursed his lips, thinking. Finally, he said, “Is it about your dad?”

Akaashi’s head snapped up. “How…did you know?”

“Um…you remember when we went drinking that night…”

“Oh shit,” Akaashi whispered, horrified, letting his head fall into his hands. “What did I say?”

“You don’t remember that, either?”

“I don’t remember anything except for that crew-cut guy coming up to us. That’s it. I don’t even remember my hangover and fever.”

Bokuto swallowed nervously. “You just sounded very, very angry with your dad.”

Akaashi sighed, allowing a brief moment of silence to pass before he began, “He’s just been pushing me very hard, especially after I went home for the New Year and with exams just around the corner and I was just so super stressed out,” he said all of this in one go, like a word flush of all or nothing. “I mean, you noticed too, right? I was so out of it. That’s why you got me to get out of the house.”

Bokuto nodded, biting his lip anxiously. 

“You say I’m smart all the time, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi shook his head, head dipped down. “But the truth is I’m behind in all my classes because I don’t understand things and I don’t feel the slightest motivation to want to.” His hands came up to cover his face. “My lecturer predicted three failing grades for me for the upcoming exams and I…I’m so fucked. My father is going to murder me when he finds out.”

Akaashi’s voice broke at the last syllable but his shoulders seemed more relaxed now that he’d let out what was cooped up in him for so long. It took Bokuto a while to absorb all of this.

“Hey,” Bokuto said softly, gently prying Akaashi’s hands away from his face so he could look directly into his eyes. “You don’t have to go through all this alone, you know? You don’t have to keep everything suppressed within yourself.”

“I just assumed,” Akaashi shrugged. “This is something only I can do something about. I didn’t want to have to unload my own problems onto other people.”

“But that’s what friends are for.”

Akaashi took a deep breath, and when he spoke, it was in a quiet voice, “I’ve never had many friends…”

Bokuto wanted to envelope Akaashi in another hug, wanted to shower him with so much affection so he wouldn’t look so sad anymore. “I’ve already told you this before, but there’s no point in doing something that you hate, even more so if it’s what you’re going to be doing for the rest of your life,” Bokuto reasoned. “Of course, I don’t have a right to tell you what to do but I’m really worried about you and I bet your dad would be to if only he knew how much you’re suffering because you’re studying something you absolutely hate.” 

“But—“

“You need to start thinking for yourself instead of for others’ only, even if other people might think you studying literature is stupid, but in the end you’re the one who will be happy and they will still be bitterly judging another person’s life.”

Akaashi was staring at Bokuto intensely, hands wringing restlessly. “I don’t know if I can do it,” his voice was barely above a whisper. “Everything is so risky. What if I make the wrong decision?”

Bokuto tipped Akaashi’s chin upwards, levelling his gaze with Akaashi’s. “If there’s one thing I am sure about, it’s that life is never fixed. There is no predetermined way for you to live. It’s your life, you know, only you get to decide what you want to do with it, and if you’re unhappy about something, then change it. You’re allowed to, and most importantly, you should, if it’s what makes you happy. Look at Kuroo,” Bokuto said wistfully. “Everyone —me included, to be honest— initially thought he should change his name to Kuroo Testosterone, the way he flirted shamelessly with women all the time, but look at him now, he’s actually a big gay dork dating a tiny antisocial nerd because it makes him happy.”

Akaashi laughed then, real genuine laughter that felt like a drug to Bokuto since the first time he'd heard it. “You and Kuroo-san go way back, huh?”

Bokuto shrugged. “Not too long, but yeah, he’s my best friend.”

“You should talk to him.”

“I will, yeah,” Bokuto scrutinized Akaashi’s red-rimmed eyes. “But are you feeling okay?” 

“I’m…I will be,” Akaashi still looked crestfallen, but he was sitting up straighter, his gaze unwavering. “I— Bokuto-san?”

“Hm?”

“Can you…” A shade of pink coloured his cheeks as Akaashi scooted to a side and patted the space on the mattress next to him. “…stay with me tonight?”

“A— Yeah. Yeah, sure.” Bokuto’s heart rate sped up again as he laid down next to Akaashi, arms snaking to wrap themselves around his torso reassuringly. Akaashi had his face buried against Bokuto’s chest, cold hands lightly touching Bokuto’s burly arms. Their legs were intertwined, Bokuto’s catching Akaashi’s between his. 

Bokuto could see tiny tear droplets stuck onto Akaashi’s long lashes as his eyes fluttered shut and he had to resist the urge to kiss them. Akaashi's breathing evened out, shoulders moving in a standard rhythm. Bokuto tilted his head, his nose burying into Akaashi’s curly hair, breathing in his scent. His body felt hot against Akaashi’s, but if Akaashi felt the heat, he didn’t mention nor complain about it. 

Bokuto’s mind was running a marathon, millions of thoughts passing through it at once, some of which being _how did I get here_ and _how am I going to survive the night_. There was a lump in his throat he couldn’t quite place a finger on. All he knew was that his senses were completely occupied with Akaashi — Akaashi’s scent, the way he fitted just nicely in the crook of his neck, his breathing in sync with Bokuto’s and he was here, right in front of him, wrapped in his arms. Bokuto wasn’t sure what he had ever done to deserve this. Perhaps he wasn’t as sinful as he’d thought after all.

This was different from that night with the guy he had met at the club, and all those before him. He had never felt any form of attachments to any of them, but here, in this position, holding Akaashi in his arms like that, he felt a surge of affection and warmth so strong for the man in his embrace, and he wanted to always remain like this, wanted to protect him from all his demons, both external and internal ones. He never wanted to move, perfectly content if he lost the motor functions of his limbs right there and then because Akaashi was next to him and that was all that mattered.

Bokuto planted a kiss in Akaashi’s hair before drifting off to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://akaa-shi.tumblr.com) / [twitter](http://twitter.com/seawxxd)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto is dense and Oikawa is the real mom.

Bokuto woke up alone in Akaashi’s bed the next morning, which sent Bokuto into a state of panic at first because if Akaashi was already awake, that must mean he was late to class. He scrambled out of bed and staggered to his desk where his phone was being charged. 8:00AM. His first class was at 9AM. He breathed a sigh of relief, but was still confounded that Akaashi had woken up so early. At the back of his mind, there was a negativity bubble that reminded him of his slight disappointment that he’d woken up alone without Akaashi in his arms, but he quickly batted that away. No one had any use for unproductive, insecure thoughts like that.

He then realised there was a post-it note stuck on his desk next to his phone. 

_Good morning, Bokuto-san,_

_I just remembered I have an 8AM extra class today. Didn’t want to wake you up because your class is at 9. See you in the evening._

_PS. Remember to talk to Kuroo-san. :-)_

_Akaashi_

Bokuto’s mouth stretched into a grin at the smiley face and tucked the note safely in his notebook before leaving for class.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have much time to think about talking it out with Kuroo because his lecturers were also putting extra pressure on them to work harder for their exams in a month’s time. Bokuto had more problems with his written theory exams than his practicals, he had to admit. He was disheartened at first when he found out he would have to learn art history to obtain an art degree since his worst subject in high school was history, but there was no chance for a bargain so it was either all or nothing and Bokuto couldn’t, wouldn’t pick nothing. 

So there he was, thick art history textbooks that looked awfully similar to Akaashi’s law ones piled high on his desk after he came home from class that day. His vision was gradually getting blurrier as he stared at the tiny wordings on each page, trying hard to fight back the drowsiness that tempted to claim him. He had lost count of how many times he had gone to rummage for snacks in the pantry, only to finish it in mere seconds as he paid more attention to snacking than actually studying and had to return to the cupboards to replenish.

He wasn’t aware how long time had passed until Akaashi came back, looking tired as always but with a new spring in his step. Bokuto enquired about this new development. 

“Really?” Akaashi’s voice was even shriller than usual. It was unfamiliar, but it definitely made Bokuto’s chest expand in joy and relief to see Akaashi in a good mood. He was worried there would be bad aftermaths of his nightmare, despite the fact that they had both slept soundly throughout the night. “Hmm, probably because last night was the first time I’ve slept well in a very long time.”

They both grew red simultaneously.

“Um,” Akaashi looked at his toes. “I wanted to tell you that I’m staying over at a friend’s place tonight.”

Bokuto could almost hear the ‘thud’ sound his heart made as it fell to the floor. “Oh,” Bokuto couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice, his eyes drooping sadly. “Um, who is it?”

“My classmate, Konoha. He’s staying in Ikuta House. We’re doing a group project and the deadline’s really soon, so I agreed to stay over and help finish it,” Akaashi explained. 

“Oh,” Bokuto said again, feeling something like rising jealousy gnaw at the back of his head. He mentally swatted it away. “Okay. Uh, have fun? Don’t stay up too late.” What was that? Why did he suddenly sound like Akaashi’s mom? 

“Okay…” Akaashi said slowly. “And don’t worry, mom, I won’t,” he played along with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bokuto-san.” And with a wave, Akaashi was out of the door and Bokuto felt a hole the size of a meteor crater opening up within him.

But Bokuto barely had time to start feeling sorry for himself before there was a knock on the door. Initially thinking Akaashi had left something behind and wondering why he would need to knock on the door of his own room if he had the keys, he wasn’t expecting Kuroo to be the one standing in the doorway.

“Hey,” Kuroo said tersely, face devoid of emotion.

“Hey,” Bokuto replied, Kenma and Akaashi’s words asking him to talk to Kuroo choosing the moment to resound in his head.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto stepped back, allowing Kuroo to enter. For the first time in history, Kuroo looked like he didn’t know where to stand or sit, when previously he would just casually permit himself to flop onto Bokuto’s bed or collapse into a nearby chair. 

“I saw Serious-kun just leaving on the way here,” Kuroo scratched his cheek awkwardly. “Where was he going?”

“He’s, uh, staying at a friend’s place tonight. For a group project.”

“Oh. So the room will be all yours for the night.”

“Yup.”

Kuroo nodded, shoving both his hands into his pockets. Bokuto couldn’t stand the pretense anymore.

“Hey—“

“Listen—“

They both started at the same time, staring at each other with dilated eyes. 

Kuroo continued without hesitation. “Look, I’ll say it first. I was a massive dick. I should’ve known you were in a bad mood and you obviously called me over to tell me something, not to hear me go on about my own problems.”

“I was a dick too, lashing out at you suddenly like that when you clearly already had a lot on your plate. You were right, I didn’t mean it. You can whine to me anywhere, anytime,” Bokuto let it all out in one go. “And I’m sorry for calling your bedhair stupid.”

“Well,” Kuroo ruffled his own hair. “It is pretty stupid.”

They grinned at each other, tension broken instantaneously. 

“Oh god, that’s the closest to a heartfelt confession I’ll ever make to you,” Kuroo flopped onto Bokuto’s bed as Bokuto seated himself on the chair opposite him.

“Yeah, no more. You sounded so sincere I almost threw up my lunch.”

Kuroo aimed a pillow at Bokuto, catching him square in the face, triggering a squawk. 

“Anyway,” Kuroo’s face turned a little serious. “Kenma told me that Yamaguchi told Tsukki who told Oikawa who announced loudly to everyone when they were watching TV that you slept on the couch three nights ago?”

“Wow…” Bokuto’s eyebrows rose to new heights. “Three nights? It was that long ago?”

Kuroo squinted, thinking. “Well, not really…but if you say so,” he shrugged. “So, what happened?”

Bokuto told him everything, starting from bringing Akaashi to the club, hearing him drunk rant, taking care of him when he was hungover and sick the next day, the kiss —Kuroo eyes grew in size and Bokuto said, “I know.”— his giant mental turmoil that ensued —“This was when we fought.” “Ah yes, I can see that.”— following someone home for the night —Kuroo frowned at him and Bokuto didn’t blame him— and finally Bokuto cuddling Akaashi to sleep the night before. 

It felt really good to be able to talk to his best friend again.

Kuroo was staring at Bokuto in what could either be shock or awe, or both. “I don’t talk to you for three days and you go and get so much action? Personally, I feel pretty offended.”

“May I remind you that you were part of the drama.”

“True,” Kuroo grinned smugly, resting his head on his knuckles as he laid on his stomach on the bed. “Thanks, I feel better now.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Okay, listen, I don’t know how else to tell you this except to get straight to the point,” Kuroo held out his hands, palms facing upwards. “You’re in love with Akaashi.”

Bokuto froze in place, turning around to fully face Kuroo. “… _Love_? You mean to say it really exists? Like romantic movies love? Like Lady and the Tramp love?”

Kuroo rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “What, you think love is a hoax? Okay, maybe Lady and the Tramp isn’t a stellar example of a romantic movie, but okay. Yes. The answer to your question is yes.”

“Hey,” Bokuto suddenly said sternly. “You take that back. You take that back about Lady and the Tramp right now.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes again and held up his hands in surrender. “Ugh, fine, your royal highness.”

Bokuto’s teeth were like daggers digging nervously into his lip. It wasn’t that he was a stranger to the word ‘love’ and like he’d mentioned, sappy romance movies and Valentine’s Day and all that shit. He’d just never felt it first-handedly and therefore deduced that everyone else was just exaggerating feelings of infatuation when it was just pure sexual desire. Besides, that was what love was usually portrayed as, right? Sex? So for a while, Bokuto genuinely thought he had this whole ‘love’ thing down, and frankly, it didn’t even seem as appealing as the media and everyone else had advertised it to be. He still felt incomplete and dissatisfied after sleeping around, and soon after that, he just stopped chasing after it, resorting to watching his coupled friends from afar and wondering if he was doing something wrong.

“Wait, so,” Bokuto was genuinely trying to wrap his mind around this whole new concept. “I’m in love?”

“Seems like it.”

“But it’s like, I get this weird, dizzy, hard-to-breathe feeling—“

“Yup.”

“—and my heart beats really fast and I feel hot all over—“

“Mm hm.”

“—and I get tingling feelings in my hands and legs—“

“Absolutely.”

“Holy shit…” Bokuto said in awe, hand over his mouth as he digested this conclusion.

Kuroo looked amused more than anything else. “And I’ll bet that you felt jealous when you found out Serious-kun would be staying with someone else.”

He was right, of course. Damn. _Damn_.

“Damn,” Bokuto breathed. “I’m in love with Akaashi.”

 

* * *

 

After Kuroo left, Bokuto spent the entire night rolling the idea around in his head repetitively. Love. He was in love. With Akaashi. These feelings of warmth and fondness whenever he saw Akaashi, he could attribute a word to it. It felt like he was seeing everything through a new lens; when Akaashi bought ice cream to cheer Bokuto up from his dejected mode, that night when Kenma got lost and Bokuto felt electricity dancing on his fingertips, when Akaashi made pancake sushi and succeeded to get Bokuto to eat them, painting Akaashi for his class exhibition, when Bokuto was alone back at Toshima and texting Akaashi every night, the feverish kiss, all the times he wanted to grab Akaashi and just kiss him, feeling like there was nowhere else he’d rather be with Akaashi pressed against him as he drifted to sleep.

_I am truly so dense_ , Bokuto buried his face in his pillow, feeling his cheeks grow hot. _I am so stupid. How could I have not seen it?_

And while the foreign notion scared Bokuto at first, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement lighting up the tinder within him. Now that he knew what he was feeling, could put a name to it and come to terms with it, he was filled with a rush of adrenaline to want to tell Akaashi, to want to try out new things and experience this magic of love that the world gushed on and on about all the goddamn time.

Suddenly, he had never felt so sure of anything in his life.

But as his luck would have it, Akaashi wasn’t around and he was all alone in his room. He thought back to the days before Akaashi had entered his life, how barren and desolate and _sad_ it was, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit of that as he laid on his bed staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

 

* * *

For the next few days, Akaashi spent more time away from the dorms then in it. He would leave very early in the morning and come home very late at night. Bokuto was starting to develop a sense of déja vù from his time with Kiyoshi-san.

Even after Akaashi came back from spending the night at his friend’s place, Bokuto barely had time to ask how it had gone before Akaashi was out the door again, exclaiming that his classmates would be continuing with the group project in class. There went Bokuto’s plan to tell Akaashi how he really felt and perhaps gauge how Akaashi would respond to that, if he felt the same way…or not.

Whenever Bokuto asked Akaashi where he had gone, his answer was always the same: group projects.

Bokuto started staying up late waiting for Akaashi’s return every night, even though Akaashi told him he didn’t have to and shouldn’t, especially if he had classes the morning after. Bokuto would pout sadly and say that he missed Akaashi, to which Akaashi would blush and look away before entertaining him for a while until he eventually dozed off mid-conversation.

And that was the thing, Akaashi came back every night looking drained, but he didn’t seem haggard or unhappy like he was a month ago. Bokuto would’ve perhaps suspected Akaashi was secluding himself because he was in a worse place than before if not for the newfound determined and optimistic glint in his eye and the way he stood up straighter now. He had been sleeping better too, with less fidgeting and tossing, an overall development that made Bokuto feel pleased and relieved more than anything else.

And so Bokuto lived his days with less than a mere glimpse of Akaashi nowadays, which made him feel devastated and heartbroken, but he rationalized that he shouldn’t bother Akaashi too much when he was so busy, and besides, group projects eventually come to an end anyway and as much as it pained Bokuto to wait, his emotions festering riotously within him the longer time passed, he told himself he would do it anyway, for Akaashi’s sake.

It was only when Akaashi started informing Bokuto that he was staying over at Konoha’s pretty much once every week that Bokuto started having gnawing suspicions that maybe there was more to this group project than Akaashi had let him on.

Bokuto tried to find out the subtle way one evening when Akaashi was sorting the contents in his bag.

“So, Akaashi…” Bokuto’s voice sounded too high, too fake. He cleared his throat. “Your friend Konoha…does he have any roommates?”

Akaashi paused and looked up at Bokuto, an eyebrow arched. “No, he doesn’t. He stays in an en suite room. Why?”

Bokuto’s breath caught in his throat and he coughed violently to mask his gasp of shock. “Nothing, nothing. Just wondering.”

Akaashi looked at Bokuto weirdly but didn’t say anything. Finally, he heaved his bag onto his shoulder and left for the night after a “Goodbye, Bokuto-san. See you tomorrow.”

Shit. Shit shit shit shit. Bokuto knew it. It was all starting to fall into place now. Suddenly leaving the house for long periods of time when previously the only times he’d left the room was to pee, the liveliness and confidence of his gait and posture that appeared overnight, and now frequently staying over at Konoha’s place which was an en suite room and had no other roommates as hindrance…

Akaashi was dating Konoha.

And despite the fact that he had no proof of this, never even heard Akaashi talk about Konoha to him before, he was almost a hundred percent sure of his deduction, choosing to believe this version of truths more than anything else. And it made Bokuto want to set fire to a building and then throw himself into the burning building, and if a debris flew and hit this Konoha person on the head, he wouldn’t mind it so much either.

If there was a God, he would definitely be laughing at the joke that was Bokuto’s life, because of course as soon as he realised his feelings for Akaashi, Akaashi started seeing someone else.

The following week was exam week and Bokuto never thought he’d live to see the day when he could admit that he found solace deep within the pages of textbooks and exam papers. Akaashi was still pretty much absent a lot of the time, claiming that he was studying at the library because there were more references within reach there whenever Bokuto texted to ask where he was. 

Bokuto dulled the throbbing ache in his chest by memorising dates and notes on Postimpressionism & Late 19th Century aestheticism. When he couldn’t absorb any information anymore, he resorted to lying face-first on Kuroo’s bed feeling sympathetic for himself while Kuroo and Kenma studied for their respective exams and ignored him.

 

* * *

 

 **To: Akaashi  
** **From: Bokuto**  
**Subject: AKAASHI I MISS U  
****r u dating konoha is that y ur always out of d hse i miss u :’(**  

**> >Draft deleted.**

**To: Akaashi  
** **From: Bokuto  
** **Subject: AKAASHI  
** **i dnt c u a lot anymore its vry quiet in here i miss u :’(**

**> >Draft deleted.**

**To: Akaashi  
** **From: Bokuto  
** **Subject: (none)  
****i miss u :’(**  

**> >Draft deleted.**

**To: Akaashi  
** **From: Bokuto  
** **Subject: dinner?  
****akaashi wanna grab dinner tgt 2nite?**  

 **To: Bokuto  
** **From: Akaashi  
** **Subject: Re: dinner?  
** **I can’t, Bokuto-san. I’m staying back at the library till late tonight. Another time, maybe.**

 

* * *

 

It was the day of Bokuto’s last paper and the house was desolately empty when he came back, finally done with his second year of university. That wasn’t surprising, reckoning that most sane students would want to spend the last day of their exams doing absolutely anything but staying at home.

And yet here he was. The pitiful loser minority. 

Honestly, all he wanted to do was sleep for a million years, with the burden of exams and his feelings and paranoia weighing heavily on his shoulders for the past few weeks. He deserved a break, really. Especially after the phone call a moment ago.

Bokuto had quite literally leapt out of the exam hall once he was done with the last paper. It was difficult as all hell, as always, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry about that just yet in the face of imminent freedom.

The first thing he had done was call Akaashi, unsurprisingly, positive that he had also broken from his shackles and maybe they could even have a proper conversation for once in weeks. 

“Hey hey, Akaashi!” Bokuto shouted jubilantly into the receiver. “Your exams are over, too, right? Let’s go for lunch together! Sushi if you want!”

“Hi, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi’s voice lacked the enthusiasm Bokuto would expect from someone who had just finished their exams. “Yeah, they just finished…but I can’t, I’m busy with…um…some stuff. I have to see my lecturer…to get…something…” Akaashi was mumbling at this point and Bokuto had to tear his phone away from his ear to see if he was losing signal. He wasn’t.

“Oh,” Bokuto was thoroughly bummed out, unable to keep his dismay from tainting his voice and turning the corners of his mouth downwards. What could Akaashi have to do urgently after exams had just ended? “AreyougoingoutwithKonoha?” The words were blurted out before Bokuto could stop them, could slap a filter over them. It had been a nagging worry at the back of his head for weeks and now it had pushed forward to the front, demanding to make itself known.

“What?” Akaashi sounded perplexed.

“Nothing!” Bokuto hurriedly covered up his blunder, tacking on a nervous laugh at the end. “Nothing. I just…coughed.”

“Okay,” Akaashi sounded distracted now. 

“I’ll…see you later tonight, Akaashi?” Bokuto asked tentatively, biting his lip in nervousness.

There was a short pause and Bokuto could imagine Akaashi’s face relaxing into a smile. “Of course. I’ll see you tonight, Bokuto-san.”

And now Bokuto was lying on the couch in the common room, beer bottle in one hand, feeling like a pathetic sack of week-old garbage left outside of the house, forgotten. He’d found a six beer pack in the fridge with a post-it note stuck on it saying _Oikawa’s! ☆_ and proceeded to help himself to one. It was incredible how he had managed to go from feeling absolutely shit to feeling superbly lucky to feeling absolutely shit again. This wasn’t even a case of his swinging moods, it was literally how ironically comical his life had gotten, but he had stopped laughing about a week ago.

The door to the unit opened then and Bokuto clambered to sit up to see who it was, his heart silently wishing that maybe Akaashi didn’t have any plans after all, only to sigh disappointedly when he saw who it was.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Bokuto muttered disinterestedly and flopped back onto the couch.

“Excuse me,” Oikawa feigned mock hurt as he took off his shoes and walked into the common room. “What do you mean ‘ _it’s just you_ ’?”

“It means what it literally means, princess.”

Oikawa scoffed, eyes taking in Bokuto’s ungraceful sprawling position on the couch. “I see you’ve taken advantage of my beer stock.”

“Oh,” Bokuto raised his beer bottle which was already emptied. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“I didn’t offer you one,” Oikawa grumbled as he went to the kitchen to open the fridge, but when he came back, he held out a new bottle for Bokuto.

Bokuto couldn’t believe his eyes, eyebrow twitching upward almost imperceptibly. “You’re being very generous today.”

“You just look pretty shit, is all.” Bokuto accepted the new bottle of beer and Oikawa dropped into the lone seat sofa, another beer in his own hand. 

“Thanks,” Bokuto smiled gratefully, opening it and taking a swig, the bitter liquid flowing down his throat a soothing comfort. “How come you’re home early? I thought you’d be out partying, terrorizing the town or some shit.”

Oikawa took a gulp of beer and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, shrugging. “I’m waiting for Iwa-chan, he has an extra supplementary paper to sit for. What about you? What are you looking like a sad kicked puppy for?”

Bokuto shrugged against the leather fabric of the sofa. “Hey, Oikawa, want to break into some dorms together? At Ikuta House? We’ll be done before Iwaizumi gets back. It’ll be fun.”

Oikawa paused in the middle of taking a mouthful of his drink, tossing Bokuto a weird stare. “Two bottles of beer aren’t enough to make you drunk.”

“I’m not drunk, I’m serious!”

“Sure you are,” Oikawa swallowed a mouthful slowly and leaned forward to look at Bokuto sternly. “Firstly, no. Secondly, why the fuck would I do that? Why the fuck would _you_ do that, honestly?”

Bokuto rubbed his hands over his face irritably, eyes hurting from concentrating on tiny fonts the whole day. He took a deep breath.“Akaashi’s probably there right now, and I haven’t seen him properly in almost two weeks? I called him and he said he’s busy but I have a feeling he’s hiding something from me and I think I know what it is and I’m not sure what to do,” he threw his hands up in exasperation. “I just thought…we’d be able to do stuff together after exams since he was so busy before but it seems like he’s seeing someone else right now and that someone is staying at Ikuta House and they’re probably…” Bokuto couldn’t find it within him to finish his sentence.

Oikawa was scrutinizing Bokuto carefully, head cocking to one side as he said slowly, “Ah. You’ve fallen for your roommate, haven’t you?”

Bokuto didn’t even bother to question how Oikawa managed to come to that conclusion. Oikawa _knew_ things about people, sometimes even before they themselves realised it. He nodded mutely.

Oikawa leaned back against the couch in triumph. “Well, for one, breaking into someone’s house isn’t going to make Akaashi-kun very happy, I think.”

“Of course,” Bokuto groaned. It was just one of those ideas that felt really good to express hyperbolically but never actually achieved anything worthwhile. “It’s just that if I don’t do something, I…” Bokuto gulped, coming to a realisation himself. “…I’m afraid I’ll lose him.” 

And suddenly it felt like Bokuto’s world was shattering at the prospect of losing Akaashi, both as a friend and also maybe something more. Losing him before he’d even gotten him, only because all along, he’d been too dumb to realise his own feelings and when he finally did, Akaashi was snatched right under his nose where he had been the whole time. The thought sent a tremor of fear down his spine. 

Oikawa seemed to have sensed Bokuto’s impending breakdown and hurriedly broke the silence. “Once, back in high school, Iwa-chan practically dropped off the radar for three weeks. He was distant in class and during practice, and immediately after that he’d dash off somewhere and his mom told me he never came home for dinner.” Bokuto thought Oikawa almost looked nostalgic. “And for a while I freaked out because I thought he was either having a secret boyfriend or running a mafia gang in Miyagi. It turns out he was getting private tutor lessons from our class rep because he was failing English and was too embarrassed to tell anyone else.”

Bokuto contemplated for a while. “You think Akaashi’s getting private English tutor lessons from Konoha?”

Oikawa rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they stayed in their sockets. “ _No_ , moron. I’m saying maybe you’re just overthinking things and there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

Bokuto didn’t look convinced.

“Look,” Oikawa sighed. “I’m only telling you this because I don’t think Akaashi’s seeing anyone, and I’m usually never wrong about these things. I asked you to go for it at the very start, didn’t I? I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t think both of you had a hint at something for each other.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively and took a sip of drink from his bottle. 

“You…think that?” Bokuto asked dubiously.

“Yeah. Besides, frankly, the both of you are as married as Kuroo-kun and his little pudding head. I’ve never seen anyone so pleasantly amused at the fact that their kitchen had burned down before.” Oikawa’s shoulder lifted in a half-shrug. “Although I’ll admit, I’ve never pegged you as the type to be emotionally invested.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto nodded. “Me neither.”

Oikawa’s gaze softened and he leaned forward to lightly pat Bokuto’s shoulder. “There, there. You’ll be fine, Bokuto-kun.”

Bokuto grinned. “It makes more sense now that Akaashi would compare you to his mom.”

Oikawa’s face couldn’t have lit up any brighter. “He did that?” His brought a hand up to hover over his chest. “I feel so incredibly honoured. Good choice of candidate, Bokuto-kun. I approve.”

“Hey,” Bokuto shot him a non-malicious glare. “I said Akaashi’s mom, not _my_ mom.”

 

* * *

 

Bokuto didn’t keep track of how many bottles of beer he had downed until Iwaizumi turned up and Oikawa left. He faintly remembered both of them having to help him walk back to his room, drunk as he was.

“Jesus, what does he eat?” Bokuto recalled Iwaizumi muttering, his left arm slung over Iwaizumi’s buff shoulders. Ha-ha. He could say the same about Iwaizumi, honestly.

“The souls of innocent children, probably,” Oikawa had piped up from the right. Bokuto aimed to punch Oikawa in the face but missed, connecting with air instead.

“Hey!” Oikawa had cried out indignantly. “You’ve got some nerve punching the beautiful face of your saviour who’s the reason you’re standing up right now!”

Bokuto had wanted to mumble something about “Just leave me on the floor to die” but he didn’t think those words made it out of his mouth in that order.

He remembered falling fast asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, and then he had the strangest and most vivid dream he had ever had. Bokuto was pretty damn sure it had been a dream because no way in hell could it have happened in real life and it was definitely just his brain feeding him scenarios that he had gone over and over in his head for weeks. And also because the entire time he was looking at Akaashi, Akaashi was bathed in a golden glow of holy light, the splitting image of an angel sent from heaven.

Which was why when Akaashi first appeared before him, Bokuto had to squint his eyes.

“Bokuto-san? Are you drunk? Did you go to the bar?” Even his voice sounded like a hymn to Bokuto’s ears.

“Noooooooo,” Bokuto drawled, seemingly drunk even in his dream. “I just had beer with the princess.” Before dream-Akaashi had the chance to say anything, Bokuto blurted, “You’re so pretty, Akaashi, you know that? You’re, like, shining. Like a sun. Even more so because you look so happy lately and I’m so glad.” Bokuto batted his eyelids for no reason. It also looked like Akaashi had wings if Bokuto looked at him from a certain angle. “Even if, you know, you’re happy because of Konoha and not me. Even though I want it to be me. But I don’t make the rules.” Bokuto hiccuped. 

Angel-Akaashi’s eyebrows puckered as he stared ridiculously at Bokuto like he was a raving lunatic. “What?”

“No, wait, I have more to say,” Bokuto held up a finger unsteadily because this was his dream and he had so much more to say to dream-Akaashi, dammit, so many things that he probably couldn’t say in real life and here he was, unravelling them all one by one because none of this was real and he needed this stress relief therapy after all those rough weeks. “But,” Bokuto frowned, searching for his words. “The only thing that matters, the thing that is most important is your happiness, Akaashi, because I love you and I want to see you smile and hear you laugh all the time because it’s the most precious thing in the world and— and I also want to say that I really, really regret pulling away when you kissed me that night you were sick even though I did want to kiss you back and now I want to kiss you too, but I can’t.” He drew in a deep breath. “That is all. Thank you for your time.” 

He bent forward in a bow and then everything went black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweet dreams are made of this starts playing in the background*
> 
> [tumblr](http://akaa-shi.tumblr.com) / [twitter](http://twitter.com/seawxxd)


	12. Chapter 12

Bokuto expected nothing less than the hangover he had the next morning. It was a Saturday though, thank God, but when Bokuto’s eyes instinctively darted to Akaashi’s bed, it was empty. The room was quiet. It was 2PM. And he felt like death incarnate. 

His head was throbbing menacingly and his tongue felt like dry sandpaper, something that always occurred whenever he drank beer. Flashes of images of a dream he’d just had last night returned to him as he sat up in bed, and for some reason, it did make him feel better, like he had just poured out all his problems to an imaginary therapist. Despite that, he still felt terrible physically so that was quite the compromise in exchange for a saner mind.

Bokuto’s plan for the day after that was to take an hour-long shower, change into new pajamas and continue sleeping. But there was a hitch in that plan, a hitch that appeared in the form of his next door neighbours.

“Heeeeeeeey!” Kuroo pranced into his room uninvited and uninformed, a destructive whirl of long limbs and messy black hair as he roughly shoved open the blinds to let the afternoon light in. Bokuto snarled and hissed venomously like a cornered cat, hands coming up to shield his face from predatory sunshine. 

“GEH!” Bokuto grabbed the nearest object and hurled it at his nuisance of a friend. It turned out to be Bokuto’s underwear from his laundry pile. Kuroo let loose a screech and leapt away as if he’d just been thrown faeces at and in a less strict sense of the word, perhaps he was right.

“Dude, gross!” Kuroo snapped, eyeing the piece of underwear like it was rotten gangrene tissue under his toe. “When was the last time you did your laundry?!”

Kenma appeared then, a 3DS held in one hand but this time he wasn’t playing it. Instead, his eyes were trained on Bokuto. 

Bokuto performed tardy mental calculation, which was especially difficult in his lethargic state. “Since two weeks ago? Hey, Kenma,” he waved to the younger boy, who waved back. Bokuto slouched back into bed. “What are you guys doing here? I’m not up for entertaining guests right now.”

“We need you to come with us for lunch,” Kuroo sat on the end of Bokuto’s bed and snatched away the pillow he had used to cover his face. “You know what they say, greasy food is a hangover’s best friend. So let’s go. We’re going to McDonald’s.”

“Ughhhhh nooooo,” Bokuto groaned. “Getting out of bed is a hangover’s worst enemy.”

“No, it’s not,” Kuroo poked Bokuto in the ribs. “C’mon, Kenma. Tell him to get up.”

“Yeah,” Kenma said dryly. “Let’s have lunch, Koutarou.”

Bokuto blinked, eyes snapping to Kenma. “Huh? Kenma actually wants to go out for lunch?”

Kenma looked away. “They’re selling Love Live figurines with Happy Meals.”

Kuroo exchanged a look with Kenma and then turned to grin at Bokuto. “Even Kenma’s asking you to go. That’s a good enough reason.”

And indeed it was, Bokuto had to admit.

 

* * *

 

Bokuto’s planned hour-long shower turned into 15 minutes but his headache was still going strong as he pulled on a new shirt. Bokuto thought Kuroo and Kenma were acting a bit fishy and not telling him something, but he chalked it off as another one of those telepathic links they had that Bokuto had been left out of on plenty of occasions. 

Bokuto was quiet throughout lunch, mainly because his senses were still hypersensitive and it wasn’t improving the soft but consistent pounding in his head. Instead, he allowed himself to appreciate wolfing down three cheeseburgers while listening to Kuroo and Kenma discuss about the movie they’d watched yesterday.

“Okay,” Kuroo held his hands out in a business-like manner, explaining the plot of Inception to Bokuto —and not doing a very good job, Bokuto had to admit, because 20 minutes later, he still had no idea what the movie was actually about— who was munching on fries. “So at the end of the movie, they showed the guy spinning his totem and before we could see whether it continued spinning or fell over, the screen cut to black and we were all literally left in the dark.” Kuroo looked indignant. “I mean, what was that? Did it fall or did it continue spinning? After all of that, after everything Leonardo DiCaprio and his team did, how could he still be stuck in limbo, right?” A sly grin slid across his face. “That’s the beautiful nastiness of the entire movie, because I think it didn’t stop spinning at all. It was all just a dream in his head. It’s cruel, but that’s what makes the movie so good.” Kuroo crossed his arms smugly like he’d just explained a thesis on how gravity works.

Bokuto nodded, mostly to entertain Kuroo because only roughly about 40% of what he’d said was absorbed through the hazy fog of his mind.

Kenma sipped his coke, eyes focusing on the pile of fries in front of Bokuto. He tentatively reached forward to take one and Bokuto nodded for him to go ahead. He smiled gratefully and chewed on it before saying, “I don’t think it was a dream, though.”

Kuroo whipped around promptly. “What? Why?”

Kenma continued munching and tilted his head in deliberation. “Well, in the last dream, we saw the entire team get kicked out of the dream right? That must mean they were all already awake in reality and one of the rules of the whole dream sharing system is that once you’re awake, you’re no longer in any shared dream.” Kenma reached for another fry. “And in the last scene, the camera deliberately pans to show us each and everyone’s faces. So if they’re awake, then Cobb must be too.”

“But!” Kuroo sputtered, staring at his boyfriend with awe clear in his eyes. “It’s too good to be real! In terms of delivering maximum impact in a movie, the final sequence just seemed so…anticlimactic and straightforward?”

Kenma’s eyebrows crinkled in thought. “Well, that’s a valid point, but if you look at the movie as it iswithout factoring in external effects and such, it seemed much more logical that he did make it in the end. Besides,” Kenma picked up his cup. “It looked like the top wobbled a bit in the end."

“It wobbled but it didn’t look like it was going to fall. You know what, let’s ask Bokuto what he thi—“ 

Kuroo paused and Kenma went wide-eyed as they both stared at Bokuto who had dozed off slumped against the chair. 

Kuroo nudged Bokuto’s shin and Bokuto woke up with a jolt, saliva leaving a trail across his cheek. “Whoa. Dreams and spinning tops. I think I dreamt about that. Look at what you guys did.”

Kuroo grinned. “So did _your_ top stop spinning, Bokuto?”

Bokuto massaged his eyes with the heels of his palms. “No idea. I never remember my dreams.” His eyes took in their empty trays. “Ah, good, we’re all done. Let’s go home.”

Kuroo and Kenma exchanged panicked glances before Kuroo turned around hurriedly. “Actually, um, you remember that 400 yen I borrowed from you last month?”

“Yeah?”

“How about I buy you a coffee as repayment? You could very well use a coffee right now.”

Bokuto stared at him strangely. “No, it’s fine. I don’t want coffee, I just want to sleep." 

“Ahhh, but Kenma wants coffee too, don’t you, Kenma?” Kuroo elbowed Kenma quickly and Kenma shot him a dagger glare but said slowly, “Yes. Fine.”

Bokuto was getting more and more mystified at the way his friends were acting. “Kenma doesn’t really look like he wants coffee…”

“Yes, he does!” Kuroo stood up then, grabbing Kenma’s arm in one hand and Bokuto’s in the other, leading both of them out of the restaurant.

Bokuto was quite literally dragged to the Starbucks that was five kilometers away despite the fact that they had passed a good two or three outlets on their way there. Kuroo insisted they had to go to the branch at JUSCO because “they always add a smiley face onto my name on the cup”.

In the end, Kuroo bought coffee for all of them and when Bokuto pointed out that there was no smiley face on his cup, Kuroo turned red and walked up to the counter, requesting the barista to draw a smiley face at the end of his name. Kenma and Bokuto collectively did an eye roll.

“Okay, can we go home now?” Bokuto whined as he trapped his straw between his lips. Without a doubt, Bokuto had ordered a matcha frappuccino.

“Wait, hold on. Kenma,” Kuroo turned to face Kenma. “We need to get toilet paper rolls.”

Yes, they were definitely behaving weirdly, Bokuto decided, staring at Kuroo who looked like he was sweating profusely, voice too loud and high and Kenma who was shooting glares at Kuroo every few seconds. 

“Are you guys okay?” Bokuto cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes!” Kuroo and Kenma said at the same time, making the situation no less fishy. But Bokuto was too tired and out of it to argue, allowing his friends to drag him around according to their whims. They had to go home eventually, right?

So they went to JUSCO where Kuroo and Kenma got their toilet paper rolls and Kenma bought an extra box of cereal. Bokuto bought a row of paracetamol for his persistent throbbing headache.

After that, finally, Kuroo agreed to go home, and Bokuto could see Kenma visibly sigh in relief.

The journey back from JUSCO felt familiar, and Bokuto immediately thought of their previous shopping excursion when Akaashi was with them, and also at night when it was just the two of them walking along the streets in search of Kenma. Thinking of Akaashi made his heart clench in pain. He missed Akaashi. He missed his roommate whom he hadn’t properly seen or talked to in so long. He missed him so much it felt like someone had connected a vacuum cleaner to his lungs and sucked all the air out of it.

Bokuto shook his head to prevent himself from falling further into a pit of despair and his eyes refocused enough to realise that Kuroo and Kenma were studying his face attentively. 

Bokuto was taken aback and jumped back a little. “What?”

Kuroo brought his arm around Bokuto’s shoulder. “Are you okay, dude?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto gave a sharp nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Kuroo didn’t say anything, merely gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Even Kenma offered him an encouraging smile. He accepted them graciously from his friends, even though he had a feeling that there was something they were not telling him.

Bokuto found out what that something was when they got back. 

At the entrance to Izumi House, Kuroo and Kenma stopped abruptly and turned around to face Bokuto.

“There’s somewhere you should go…” Kuroo didn’t even pretend that there was nothing going on anymore. He pointed around the bend of the residence building where the park stretched till. “He’s waiting for you there.” 

Bokuto could hear his rapid heartbeat echoing in his ears and his palms started to sweat. Under different circumstances, perhaps Bokuto would’ve thought Kuroo had set him up for a jumpscare or some other silly thing, but the looks on Kuroo and Kenma’s faces were serious, and they were both smiling at him supportively.

Bokuto couldn’t think of anyone else ‘he’ could be.

Heeding Kuroo’s words, he croaked out a “Thanks” before following in the direction of where Kuroo had pointed, feeling the ground sway a little due to his lightheadedness. It was smack right in the middle of spring, and there was a gentle cool breeze drifting through, brushing pleasantly against Bokuto’s skin. The park was littered sporadically with students who were enjoying a night out with fresh air right after exams finished, but the plain behind the house was usually empty because it was out of immediate sight…

Bokuto rounded the corner apprehensively and his breath snagged in this throat as he stood riveted to the spot.

There was a picnic mat laid on the grass directly beneath a fully-bloomed cherry blossom tree, filled with plates of food illuminated by a glass lantern placed in the middle, and sitting there facing him with an expectant look on his face was — Akaashi.

Bokuto wasn’t sure what he should address first. All that came out was a reverent whisper, “Akaashi.”

“Hi, Bokuto-san.” Bokuto could see his roommate’s cheeks redden even in the dim lighting, but Akaashi’s eyes latched onto Bokuto’s without looking away. “Um, take a seat.” 

Bokuto’s movements were slow as he gaped at the delicacies in front of him in amazement, not entirely sure if he was actually in a dream or not. Kuroo and Kenma’s discussion about Inception flashed across his mind, and he had half a mind to find a top right now to spin to see if this was actually real. 

“I, um, heard omurice is your favourite dish, so I made this for you,” Akaashi pointed at a plate of omurice in front of him as Bokuto lowered himself onto the mat slowly. “I also brought some cake as dessert later, if you want. And, um, this is so ridiculous but, “Akaashi pushed a cup of Starbucks matcha frappuccino towards him. “This is for you.”

Bokuto was still unable to elicit any kind of verbal response, trying to drink in his surroundings and also Akaashi, beautiful Akaashi who was a blushing nervous mess in front of him, as if Bokuto could think any less of him.

“Kuroo-san suggested using candles to ‘set the mood better’ but I didn’t want to burn anything down…” Akaashi continued, eyes flicking up to Bokuto’s as he added quietly, “I didn’t want you to burn anything down either…and, um, I was afraid this entire set-up would be too ludicrous and cheesy but Kuroo-san said it would work and you would like it so…” Akaashi trailed off uncertainly, looking embarrassed and cute and shy and so _cute_.

After a while, Bokuto found his voice again. “Kuroo?” was all he managed to say.

“Yes. And Kenma, too. How else would I be able to distract you for hours while I prepared all this?” He gestured at the food in front of them. 

Bokuto couldn’t believe this. Even _he_ couldn’t dream up something as ethereally great as this. His eyes were glistening as they met Akaashi’s, and Akaashi’s eyes widened in terror when they saw the moisture dancing in Bokuto’s eyes. “Bokuto-san—“

“Akaashi!” Bokuto leaned forward and wrapped Akaashi in a hug, his intensity of feelings rushing out in a torrent, overwhelming his senses and overriding all his thoughts. Akaashi’s presence was the only thing that mattered to him right then, and he was so happy, so glad and so _relieved_ that Akaashi was here and talking to him and he had made all of this for him and _what have I ever done to deserve this_?

Akaashi was smiling when Bokuto pulled away.

“I’ve missed you, Akaashi,” Bokuto said honestly.

Akaashi’s cheeks grew redder. “I’ve missed you, too, Bokuto-san,” he murmured and gestured at the food in front of them.

“Itadakimasu.” Bokuto took a mouthful of omurice and his taste buds were truly biased because even if it didn’t taste good, Bokuto still would’ve thought it was the best omurice in the world.

Akaashi was gauging Bokuto’s reaction. “How is it?”

Bokuto chewed and swallowed. “Even if it didn’t taste good, I still would’ve thought it was the best omurice in the world.”

Akaashi couldn’t repress the smile climbing onto his face. “You probably shouldn’t do that. But thank you.”

It was just the two of them in the entire place, a rare achievement on a university campus that was filled with students —although at one point Bokuto thought someone had thrown up in a bush a distance away from them but Akaashi denied hearing anything— and they were sitting under a cherry blossom tree under the night sky full of stars while Bokuto was surrounded by all his favourite things in the world, Akaashi included and ranked highest. 

It was a literal scene out of a romance movie. It wasn’t Lady and the Tramp, but it was perfect and Bokuto loved every single thing of it, could feel his heart sing and burst with supreme joy.

“The reason for all of this,” Akaashi said suddenly, when they had both finished their food. “Is, um, I have something to show you, Bokuto-san.”

Akaashi reached towards his bag and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it over to Bokuto. He took it, a face of confusion as he scanned the words on the paper.

_Akaashi Keiji…Timetable for second semester…Japanese Literature Class A7…_

Bokuto’s hand flew to his mouth, staring wide-eyed at Akaashi. Akaashi was beaming, the biggest smile Bokuto had ever seen on his face. 

“Akaashi…”

“What you told me that night when I had a nightmare, about deciding my life for myself and choosing what makes me happy, that’s what I did and it’s all thanks to you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, voice saturated with emotion. “I didn’t sit for my law exams. For the past few weeks, I’ve been busy running around consulting my lecturers and asking about how to get the transfer done. I stayed over at Konoha’s because Konoha’s brother once changed courses too, and I could only contact him for advice in the early hours of the morning because of timezone differences between here and Germany. I was also trying to convince my father to grant me this decision, and after explaining to him about my fears, he finally said yes,” Akaashi said all of this in a rush. He took a steadying breath. “That’s why I wasn’t around all the time, and I’m really sorry to have put you through that, Bokuto-san. I wanted to surprise you with the good news, wanted you to be the first person to know once I got everything settled.”

Bokuto’s hands were trembling now, at a loss for words. It was the greatest piece of news he’d heard in weeks because now, right in front of him, there was a genuinely brilliant smile plastered on Akaashi’s face so wide he was positively glowing, usual worried creases and frowns absent. He looked like a different person altogether, the sullen and gloomy person that had first introduced himself as Bokuto’s new roommate transformed into the person sitting right in front of him. Bokuto could feel the elation radiating from him, could feel his own mouth curving into a grin, and Akaashi was thanking _him_ for this…

Bokuto’s chest was expanding. He never thought he could feel _so much_. He was brimming with pride and joy that Akaashi had finally taken the first step to choosing his own happiness over other people's expectations, and all his anxiety and paranoia that had claimed him for the past weeks evaporated in an instant. Akaashi’s words were like refreshing rain droplets raining onto a dry, parched field, felling his pillars of fear in one giant sweep. He had a sudden strong urge to take Akaashi’s face in his hands—

His thoughts abruptly stopped there and instantaneously, he knew there was something he must do, and there was no moment more perfect than this for him to do so.

“Akaashi,” he began, heart hammering so hard in his chest he felt like his entire body was vibrating. “There’s something I need to tell you—“

And then the gods above decide to intervene by literally making it rain. 

Bokuto yelped in surprise as big fat droplets started descending from the sky and almost instantly turned into a torrential downpour. The both of them hurriedly shoved all the plates and leftover food into a basket Akaashi had brought them in, rolled up the picnic mat and headed for the nearest shelter that was the back end of Izumi House. 

They were both breathing heavily from the adrenaline, hair and clothes slightly damp and shoes muddy after battling slippery puddles. The only source of illumination they had was the tiny lantern Bokuto had snatched up to guide their pathway, and it was the only thing lighting up both of their faces now.

“You were saying, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi sounded out of breath.

Bokuto’s eyes were fixed on Akaashi’s, and his voice broke a little when he said, “I…love you.”

“What?” Akaashi shouted over the thunderous rain. "I can't hear you!"

“I said, I love you!”

“What?”  


“I LOVE YOU, AKAASHI!”

They were close enough that Bokuto could feel Akaashi’s warm breath against his mouth, sending tingles down his spine. Electricity jolted through his skin where their arms bumped against each other. Bokuto looked down at the slightly shorter man and saw his lips stretching into a sly grin.

“I heard you the first time, I just wanted to hear you say it louder.” Despite his knowing smirk, he was still blushing. Bokuto’s face and ears had also turned a deep crimson red, and he was floundering about mortifiedly. “And I know, you already told me that when you were drunk. You also told me this.”

There was the sound of the basket in Akaashi’s hands dropping to the floor and before Bokuto knew it, Akaashi was pressing his lips to Bokuto’s. Without the fever, Akaashi’s lips were soft and sweet, with a faint tinge of chocolate taste from the cake they had had just now as they slid against his. They were gentle and hesitant at first, and Bokuto deepened the kiss by kissing him back, lips parting for Akaashi’s. Bokuto heard Akaashi sigh into his mouth and his brain lit on fire, heat travelling to all parts of his body down to his toes and fingertips. Bokuto’s fingers came up to brush Akaashi’s cheek gently, and then slid up his jaw to cup his face as Akaashi’s arms locked themselves around Bokuto’s neck, pulling them closer together. Their breaths mingled and Bokuto’s heart was thundering loud and fast but it was also soaring, desire and joy concocting a potion of delirious euphoria in his brain. 

It wasn’t like the previous time when Akaashi had been forcefully sudden and Bokuto had responded hungrily, all caution thrown out the window. This kiss was a gentle question mark Akaashi had sent his way, and Bokuto had answered it firmly and without hesitation. 

Bokuto rested his forehead against Akaashi’s when they pulled back for air, the rain still going strong and sending a cold wind their way but Bokuto felt warm all over as he stared, transfixed, into Akaashi’s dark eyes.

“I thought that was a dream,” Bokuto breathed, recalling his drunk hazed angel-Akaashi dream. “This also kind of feels like a dream.”

Without warning, Akaashi’s hand shot out to pinch Bokuto’s arm and Bokuto cried out in surprise.

“I guess it’s not,” Akaashi looked up at him with a smile.

Bokuto returned it with a grin. There was a brief pause before Bokuto said, “Can I kiss you again, Akaashi?”

Akaashi’s heavy-lidded eyes blinked once. “ _Yes_ ,” he huffed out in a breath. 

And Bokuto did.

 

* * *

 

It was still raining outside, Bokuto could hear the _pitter-patter_ of raindrops through the fogginess of his brain as he slowly woke up, fighting against the grogginess trying to pull him back to sleep again. When his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was a pair of dark brown eyes staring straight into his. 

“Good morning, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi murmured, a smile dancing on his lips. He was propped up on his elbow, head supported by his left palm. His face was mere inches from Bokuto’s, the proximity the opposite of a problem due to them sharing a single bed.  

Even this early in the morning with bedhair and morning breath, Akaashi looked like a god, and Bokuto wasn’t sure if he should feel jealous or lucky about Akaashi’s effortless perfection.

“Mm, goo’mornin’,” Bokuto yawned and stared admiringly at Akaashi from under his fringe. “You’re up earlier than me today. That’s always a rare sight.”

“That’s because you snore so loudly.”

Bokuto turned his head so he could bury it in his pillow and groaned. “I’m sorry.”

Akaashi threw his head back and laughed and Bokuto wondered if he would ever get over the beauty of that. Probably not, and he wouldn’t complain. 

“I’m just kidding,” Akaashi’s elbow slid down and he came to rest his chin on his hands, face flaming a little as he said, “Although we should probably write Kuroo-san and Kenma an apology note for our…um, disturbance last night.”

This time, it was Bokuto’s turn to laugh. “Consider this PAYBACK, KUROO!” He shouted at the wall. A loud knock from the other side came in reply, and Bokuto couldn’t help but snicker in delight.

There was a moment of silence as the both of them just enjoyed each other’s company in comfortable silence, and Bokuto aimlessly littered fluttering fingertip touches tenderly on Akaashi’s shoulders, arms and back, marvelling at the ease of being allowed to do so, watching the shy expression on Akaashi’s face with extreme fondness.

He was here with Akaashi, legs intertwined together under the blankets, skin against skin, Akaashi’s hand lightly draped over his waist and his on Akaashi’s thigh, closer to each other but not only in terms of physicality. No, definitely not, he decided as he peered into Akaashi’s eyes and saw his own contentment and gratitude mirrored in them.

Bokuto let out a contented sigh. He loved this. Loved the sound of the rain. Loved the sensation in his nerves when their skins made contact. Loved Akaashi, most of all.

Bokuto broke out of his pleasant reverie to lightly play with Akaashi’s curls. “What are you thinking about?”

“Hm?” Akaashi’s eyes refocused. “I was just thinking about last night and how the entire thing was so embarrassingly ridiculous. Like it was a scene straight out of a sappy romance movie,” he shook his head and gave a short, disbelieving laugh, eyes latching onto Bokuto’s. “But you like it, right?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto grinned. “I love it.”

Akaashi hummed approvingly, and then sighed. “I know what would make it even cornier.”

He reached over Bokuto to retrieve a blue notebook from his bedside table, the very same notebook Bokuto had sneakily seen Akaashi writing furiously in a couple of times before he hurriedly hid it away upon sight of Bokuto. But this time, he opened it, flipping its pages. 

He inhaled deeply and when he started reading, his voice was quivering slightly. 

“You stand in the orange glow of the night lights, A silhouette never torn by the dark, When you speak I am brought to great heights, Always in your eyes there is a spark. I am amazed by this peace, You gift to me so easily, My fears and doubts they start to cease, Whenever you are next to me.”

Akaashi looked up from his book, both cheeks scarlet red. “I wrote a poem about you. For you.”

And then Bokuto was kissing him, because _god_ , Akaashi was so smart and beautiful and _perfect_ in every way imaginable and he’d wrote a fucking poem about Bokuto and it took everything in him not to melt into an emotional lovesick puddle on the ground.

He was counting his lucky stars that this amazing human being belonged to him, and him to Akaashi.

Akaashi laughed and whispered against Bokuto’s lips, “I win again, Koutarou.”

 

* * *

 

**EPILOGUE**

 

“Who’s winning?” Bokuto asked as he emerged from the kitchen and into the common room, a cup of coffee in his hand.

The four contestants sitting in front of the TV battling it out on Mario Kart were Iwaizumi, Kenma, Akaashi and Yamaguchi, while Kuroo, Tsukishima and Oikawa spectated the match. It was one of the last days before term ended, and everyone was gathered in the common room for a good old Mario Kart face-off.

“Kenma, obviously,” Kuroo bragged proudly from where he was seated on the couch. Bokuto sat down next to him, one leg hooking over Kuroo’s right leg. Kuroo swatted it away.

“Mm, but Akaashi-kun’s not too far behind, either,” Oikawa nodded. “Iwa-chan, if you don’t stop bumping into turtle shells you’re going to be last!”

“Shut up, Shittykawa!”

“Your insults aren’t getting any better, Iwa-chan!” 

Iwaizumi somehow managed to pick up a pillow off the couch with one hand and hurl it at Oikawa. Oikawa managed to dodge it with a yelp.

At the very last seconds of the race, Kenma and Akaashi were almost even and then —

“Ughhhhhhh,” Iwaizumi and Yamaguchi groaned as the results flashed across the screen. Kenma and Akaashi were tied as winners.

“A tie?!” Kuroo exclaimed. 

Kenma immediately turned to Akaashi. “I know a tiebreaker. Rainbow Road.”

Everyone collectively sucked in a breath, but Akaashi grinned and said, “Bring it on.”

Bokuto placed his mug on the coffee table and slid down next to Akaashi as Kenma selected game levels, nuzzling his head into the crook of Akaashi’s neck from behind. 

“Don’t distract me, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said but made no move to shake Bokuto off, his eyes concentrated on the race that had already started. “Distract Kenma instead so I can win.”

Bokuto knew he was joking, but went with it anyway. “Hey Kenma, I’ve got apple pie.”

Kuroo glared at Bokuto, shifting so Kenma was blocked from Bokuto’s point of view. “Hey Serious-kun,” he challenged. “Your boyfriend set the kitchen on fire again.”

Bokuto reared his head up higher and he thought he saw Iwaizumi place a hand over his eyes while Oikawa rubbed his hands in glee. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi looked like they wanted to get out of there. “Did you know, Kenma,” Bokuto raised his voice a little. “That Kuroo’s got a heart-shaped mole on his butt?”

“Nice try, dumbass, but Kenma knows about that mole more than you do!” Bokuto heard groaning in the background. “The real question here is did you know Bokuto has a tattoo of an emo hippopotamus on his hip?”

That was true. It was a long time ago back when he made worse life decisions when drunk. “Well, Kuroo told me once that he literally picked up someone’s lasagna thrown away in the trash and ate it as a dare!”

“Bokuto wears underwear that he hasn’t washed for two weeks!”

“Shut up!” Kenma and Akaashi yelled at the same time. Tsukishima had already stood up, Yamaguchi following suit.

“I bet you didn’t know Kuroo has sexual fantasies about cats in maid costumes!" 

“This shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone but Bokuto once masturbated to tentacle porn!”

“Oh god, okay, I’m out of here,” Iwaizumi shook his head and even Oikawa looked grossed out now as he followed after Iwaizumi.

Bokuto glowered at Kuroo. He wasn’t masturbating and it was just that one time! “Kuroo buys boy-love video games for Kenma!” He announced to a non-existent audience, only the four of them left in the common room. Kenma started to fumble a bit though and Bokuto cheered.

When Bokuto turned to look at Kuroo, he felt shivers run down his spine because he recognised the look on Kuroo’s face. It was the face of someone who had a great idea lightbulb flashing over his head, and since this someone was Kuroo Tetsurou, it couldn’t possibly be anything good.

“Serious-kun,” Kuroo’s face split into a cunning grin. “You’re the first boyfriend Bokuto has ever had.”

That did it. Akaashi froze in place and Kenma won.

As Kuroo ruffled Kenma’s hair affectionately before high fiving him, Akaashi turned around to face Bokuto, disbelief pronounced on his face. “You’ve…never had a boyfriend?”

“Well, no,” Bokuto scratched the back of his head. “I’ve never found anyone that I really liked before…”

The words had barely left Bokuto’s mouth before Akaashi grabbed Bokuto’s shirt and smashed their mouths together.

“Oh my god,” Kuroo started to scramble to his feet as Kenma wrinkled his nose at them. Before closing the door to their room, Kuroo stuck out his head and yelled, “Get a room!”

Akaashi pulled away after a while, his hand still fisted in Bokuto’s shirt. He grinned. “Guess what, you’re my first boyfriend, too.”

Bokuto flashed him a smile. “Boy, I am the luckiest person in the world.”

“So am I.”

“I love you.”

Akaashi's smile shone like the brightness of a thousand suns. "I love you, too."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i gotta tell you...i was cringing and having a lot of secondhand embarrassment throughout this (and so was akaashi)...but akaashi's right, it was worth it because bokuto was an absolute sucker for literally everything that had happened and loved all of it.
> 
> (PS. i love kenma, but i agree with kuroo that the top doesn't stop spinning purely because i believe nolan is a cruel genius)
> 
> thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it. <3
> 
> EDIT: i also wrote a part 2 to the series, a kuroken spinoff which takes place a year before this fic: [Bury Us Alive](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4398836/chapters/9988292)
> 
> ALSO, one of my favourite artists on tumblr, Spiga, drew amazing [fanart](http://spigaroses.tumblr.com/post/127499841083/youre-an-angel-im-an-astronaut-by-akaa-shi) of this fic and i still cry about it to this day
> 
> [tumblr](http://akaa-shi.tumblr.com) / [twitter](http://twitter.com/seawxxd)


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